The sirens wailed overhead. The underground passage was cramped with silence, sallow faces, people drowning in despair and lost promises. They were waiting for the train. A young woman sat, her battered suitcase squeezed between her knees. A mother sat, two children clinging to her, screaming as the bombs fell, one by one. The train conductor saw their faces, haunting in the buzzing electrical lights. He saw their faces and the guilt flooded him. They were so filled with relief, and hope. An old man cried praises to his god and the cold dead ceiling. The train did not stop. The train moved on, and the conductor cried silent tears for the mother and the women and the old man, as the lights flickered. The tunnel was left in darkness, and the echo of the train, as it hurtled past.