7:29 a.m. the time read on her wristwatch. Perfect. Anita was right on time––as always. 

The distant hum of the approaching train filled the air, announcing the arrival of the commuter train. As the sleek train glided to a halt, Anita found herself perfectly positioned at the station platform. Before the polished metal doors could invite her in, she took a momentary glance at herself in the reflective surface. Anita’s reflection stared back at her, face devoid of any anticipation for the day. With a resigned sigh, Anita watched as the automatic doors seemed to tear her hazy figure apart, signaling her entrance into the train. She slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way towards her usual seat by the window. 

Anita settled into her seat with ease, as it was the spot she occupied every morning. Glancing around the carriage she greeted her fellow passengers with a polite smile, exchanging brief nods of acknowledgement with those who met her gaze. They were all strangers, yet Anita had spoken to all of them at least once, even if their interactions were purely superficial. Whether it was a passing remark about the weather, or an inquiry about the time, the familiarity of the people made Anita feel comfortable––except for one. The man was seated two rows ahead, with his black fedora angled in a way that casted a shadow over his face. After three years of riding the commuter train, Anita had never even seen his face; that unfamiliarity piqued her interests. She had the urge to ask him where he was going and why he dressed like that everyday, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Stupid social anxiety.

Brushing away the idea, Anita cozied up in her seat to rest in for the hour ride to the city. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the window, where she could hear the rumbling of the train progressing forwards.

7:29 a.m. Same time as always, Anita prepared for another monotonous day.

Once again, she positioned herself to perfectly align with the entrance doors of the commuter train, took a deep breath, and stepped into the familiar carriage. She slowly made her way to her seat, while passing other passengers. Anita found herself actively looking for the man in the fedora so she could take a glimpse of his face. Approaching the seat he always occupies, she peered over, but he wasn’t there. 

Strange. 

Maybe he’s sick today, she thought to herself. Anita settled into her usual seat, feeling a subtle sense of disappointment at the absence of the mysterious man. As the train lurched forwards, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Lost in her thoughts, Anita barely noticed the passing scenery outside the window. Her mind drifted, replaying the countless mornings she had spent with her fellow passengers, but today was different. Today, the empty seat two rows ahead was a silent reminder of the unanswered questions that lingered in Anita's mind. 

As the days passed, the man was still nowhere to be found. Anita’s obsession over his disappearance had only grown stronger, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened to him, something inexplicable. Anita was not going to leave her questions unanswered. 

“Excuse me, miss.” Anita whispered to a nearby lady seated across from her. “You know the man who used to sit there,” She pointed to the once occupied seat. “Have you by any chance spoken to him before?” 

The lady’s eyes followed the direction of Anita’s finger and stared blankly at the seat. Furrowing her brows, she looked back at Anita and slowly shook her head. Anita reluctantly sank back into her seat, retreating from the awkward interaction. 

The following weeks stretched on, each day blending into the next as Anita continued with her questions about the man to anyone she could ask, yet her efforts were met with nothing but confused head shakes from her fellow commuters. 

Today, May 24th, marked exactly one month since she last saw the mysterious man.

Leaning her head against the window, she admired the lush scenery of the trees. Amidst the swaying branches and fresh cherry blossom trees, she caught a glimpse of something, someone.

A chill ran down her spine as she recognized him––the man in the black fedora. With uncontrollable thrill, Anita bounced out of her seat, her heart racing. In a haste she dropped all her belongings, including a bright orange pill bottle that rolled down the aisle, catching the attention of a nearby passenger.

An elderly man picked up the bottle, his eyes scanning the label. “Olanzapine,” he read, his voice heavy with pity as he looked up at Anita. “Poor girl,” he murmured with a compassionate understanding, watching her wave to the passing trees.