Youngjae eyed the man next to him with some slight apprehension on his face. The old man was coughing excessively and he watched him as he pounded his chest, coughed up the phlegm which he spat into a napkin and folded away into his pocket. ]

            The old man hacked again and then sat back against his seat again. Out of the corner of his eye, Youngjae saw that he was sitting quietly. The train was moving and he wondered where this man was heading in such a rush. There had only been one empty seat and Youngjae, who was tired from only getting three hours of sleep and was a little sick himself, had wanted to sit. But from behind him, there had been a push and then someone slipped past him into the seat.

            To say that he had been miffed wouldn’t be a lie. But he bit his tongue, and let it go. And the elderly man had smiled up at him and mumbled an apology. Whether sincere or not, he still did it so he let it go. Instead, he decided to watch him.

            The man shifted uncomfortably and opened his jacket. From there, he saw gauze and more gauze. This observation made Youngjae feel uncomfortable and he wondered if it had been purely out of desperation that had made the man act so rudely. And the man adjusted the gauze and opened up the jacket a little more. From his angle looking down, he could see a thin tube going into an inner pocket.

            The tube was filled with blood and he clutched onto the bar. Something made him watch the man again. He looked ill, now that Youngjae looked at him. His eyes had dark circles under them and he had an almost defeated look to him. The man coughed and the others around them shifted in annoyance and Youngjae felt almost superior in his knowledge. If the others knew that the man next to them causing the raucous was actually sick, would they still react the same way?

            Youngjae watched him as he took out a bunch of crackers. He ate one, nibbling on it and there was a morbid thought where he wondered, what if this was the man’s final meal? It was a measly last supper, he decided and then hit himself mentally for even thinking about it. The man adjusted his jacket and closed his eyes, and he saw the yellowing skin.

            At the next stop, the seat next to him opened up and Youngjae slid into the vacant spot. Sitting next to the deathly ill man, he felt an aura that he must be imagining. He glanced down and saw that the man’s nails were yellow and brittle and knew that there was some illness there. Youngjae lowered the volume on his music and instead watched the man, all of his own exhaustion evaporated.

            He wondered how it felt like to be living with death. How did it feel to know that you were so sick, sick enough that you may be living every day as the last one? He shuddered, not wanting to really know but the man next to him shifted again and coughed. This time, there were more obvious dirty looks from the other passengers and Youngjae wanted to point them out.

            How would they feel if their body had turned against them and there was nothing they could do about it? How would they feel if they only wanted to live but their own bodies were rejecting them and they had to suffer? He wanted to ask each of the self-righteous people that but sat quietly.

            The old man wiggled a little and he saw a hand go into the jacket to adjust what must be a bag in the inner pocket. The blood and liquid had to drain somewhere. Youngjae sighed and wondered if the man was happy. He wondered if the smile of apology was so sad because he had nothing else to smile about.

            Then Youngjae was looking for a ring, a sign that the man was not alone. His hands were bare and he almost wanted to tap him and ask, “Excuse me, sir, but do you have children?”

            Where were they and why were they not accompanying him when he is on his way to the hospital? He had made up the destination for him; the most obvious one given the elder’s current condition. He almost wanted to be the surrogate grandson but he sat back quietly.

            At the next stop, a central stop where there was a large cancer center, the old man stood up and started to walk away. He had dropped his packet of crackers and out of impulse, Youngjae grabbed his arm. The man turned back in alarm; his door was going to close soon.

            “Sir, you forgot your crackers. Have a good day, please.”

            The old man smiled, the smile came on slowly but it did. And when it did, it revealed a row of broken, cracked teeth and his jacket shifted to show the gauze again but he was smiling. “Thank you.” Their hands touched and Youngjae curled his fingers inward into a semi-hand hold and then they dropped hands and the man slipped through the nearly closing door.

            At the next stop, Youngjae got off. He got off and thought about the old man, thought about his own life and then he stopped thinking about it. He would live his life, and he had touched this man’s life. They had an interaction and he hoped he made a difference. But now it was time for him to go to music practice, and hopefully, the next time he thought about the man, the elder would be in a happier place.

This actually happened and I wanted to share it.