The next morning, Nash woke up to someone knocking on his door.
Once.
Twice.
Then three times in quick succession.
"Nash."
He pulled the blanket over his head.
"Nash."
Silence.
The door opened.
His sister poked her head inside.
"You're going to miss the train."
Nash opened one eye.
"What time is it?"
"Seven twenty."
His eyes opened properly.
"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"
"I did."
"When?"
"About five minutes ago."
"That was not five minutes."
She shrugged. "You looked busy sleeping."
Nash stared at her.
She stared back.
"Get up."
The door closed. Nash lay there for another ten seconds before throwing the blanket aside.
"I'm going to kill her."
From outside came her voice.
"I heard that."
"Good."
He dragged himself out of bed. By the time Nash reached the kitchen, his mother had already packed his lunch.
"You're late again," she said.
"I know."
"You didn't eat anything last night."
"I ate."
"You pushed food around your plate."
Nash stopped. His sister, already sitting at the table, looked up from her phone.
"He has a point."
Nash looked between them.
"Why are both of you against me this morning?"
"Because you make it easy," his sister said.
His mother placed a plate in front of him.
"Eat first. Argue later."
Nash smiled despite himself.
"Yes, ma'am."
His father was already dressed for work, sitting at the other end of the table with a cup of tea.
"You have class until four today?" Robert asked.
"Three-thirty."
"Then don't rush home. Your mother and I have some errands."
"Okay."
Nash took a bite of toast.
His father glanced at him.
"How's the project going?"
"Which one?"
Robert smiled.
"That bad?"
"I have three."
His sister laughed.
"Three projects?"
"Three deadlines."
"That's what I said."
"No, you said projects."
"Same thing."
"It really isn't."
Their mother shook her head.
"You two could argue about the weather."
"We wouldn't," his sister said.
Nash nodded seriously.
"Too controversial."
His father laughed into his tea. For a few minutes, there was nothing else. Just breakfast. The sound of plates. His sister complaining about something on her phone. His mother reminding him to take his lunch. His father checking the time.
Ordinary things.... Nash liked ordinary things.
The train was already crowded when he arrived at the station.
He squeezed inside just before the doors closed and immediately regretted it. Someone's backpack was pressed against his shoulder. Someone else was talking loudly on the phone. A child near the door was holding a toy train and making considerably more noise than the actual train.
Nash looked at the toy. Then at the train. Then back at the toy.
"Your train is quieter," he told the child.
The child's mother laughed but the child looked offended. Nash smiled apologetically.
"Sorry."
He found a small space near the window and pulled out his phone. Thirty-seven unread messages. Twenty-eight were from the university group chat. He opened it.
Daniel: guys where is today's class
Maya: Room 403
Daniel: are you sure
Maya: yes
Daniel: source?
Maya: my eyes
Nash laughed.
Nash: tragic that we're trusting Maya with our education
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Maya: you're welcome
He put his phone away. Outside the window, the city moved past in pieces. Small shops. Traffic as always... and people waiting at crossings.
A man opening the shutters of a bakery. Students and workers walking toward stations with bags hanging from their shoulders.
Nothing particularly interesting and nothing worth remembering but somehow, Nash liked watching it.
University life had become repetitive. Wake up..Train..Classes...Lunch...More classes...Assignments..presentation... projects...then train home...Sleep too late. Repeat.
He wasn't particularly unhappy with it. He had friends. He had things he enjoyed. There were days when everything felt exhausting, but there were also days when he laughed so hard in the middle of class that the professor threatened to throw him out. It was normal. Maybe a little messy. But normal.
His phone vibrated again. A message from his sister.
Lena: Mom said don't forget your lunch.
Nash looked down at the lunch box already sitting in his bag.
He typed..
Nash: tell mom I am a responsible adult :p
Her reply came almost instantly.
Lena: no
He smiled.
Nash: rude
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then the train entered a tunnel. For a few seconds, his reflection appeared in the dark window. Messy hair. Glasses. A tired face. Just Nash...me...