The fifteen hour work shift is finally over. The doors of the train hiss open, and the man - Jacob - is rushed onto the train by the press of bundled bodies behind him. He winds up next to a window, but is forced to remain standing as an old lady shuffles to the only remaining available seat. Jacob puts in his earbuds, the train begins its laborious motion, and the world flashes by.

Clustered bodies, stale sweat, and the murmur of the engine and voices blend together. Captured images change quickly in the windows, a camera reel that never stops - the sun beating blindingly against the massive buildings, reflected and refracted between their towering forms while shadows leak upwards and sideways, hiding in alleyways and crouched in crevices. The windows themselves reflect Jacob’s own empty eyes, and he shuts them quickly against the stillness of the bodies around him, the tears leaking silently down the cheeks of the person behind him. In his ears, the drums kick and the bass drops and a husky voice croons about lost love long ago.

Outside the train, under a bridge, a shopping cart lists sideways, and in a tunnel a sleeping bag slowly soaks up the cold of the body inside it, and from a window ledge, a figure dangles their feet as their last cigarette burns slowly out, and the world flashes by. Across the street, a gun is waved in the face of dozens and wild eyes frantically search for an escape route. Somewhere in the city, cops hide behind their bulletproof vests and take aim at someone’s back, but don’t pull the trigger. The music from the headphones cries out about a dream for freedom.

The train’s wheels screech to a halt, and the bodies around Jacob press closer for a moment from the momentum previously carrying them forward. They jolt to a stop as the announcer’s monotonous voice blares in muffled tones over the speakers. There is a moment of pause before the crush and rush of bodies carries Jacob out the doors, each person in their own head as the world flashes by.

A few of the people toss change into the cup the blind man always sets out while sitting on the stairs. Jacob, out of habit, drops in the change from his morning coffee. He heads up the stairs, passes and ignores a woman in a mini skirt with bruises on her arms. A man with an eagle tattoo testifies to the neighborhood rats that the limp he got in return was worth it. In Jacob’s ears, a voice growls in defiance against the walls built up by society.

Jacob climbs the stairs to his apartment and turns the tv to the news before collapsing on the couch. A woman in a sharp suit and perfect eyeliner tells of the shootings of the day, of the body found by a group of kids, of the robberies and deaths and everything else that happened on this very normal day. Jacob’s earbuds fall out, the singer’s voice cracks with emotion as he calls the people to arms. Jacob begins to snore softly. Outside, sirens wail, and the world flashes by.