Commute (3)

On Monday at 8:27 I board the same car through the same door at the same moment I did the Monday before. The strangers are also the same. This took a long time to recognize. I’d assumed strangers were by definition random. But this is no accidental meeting: we occupy the same seats, the same space to the left or the right of the door. Like a chocolate box, if chocolate could look acutely depressed.