The Audra-city of Hope

I always imagined that hope would sound like an angel choir or an orchestra of strings lead by a single flute or perhaps like an enthusiastic song bird on a fence post chirping across a meadow blanketed with thick snow...but it doesn't hope makes the sound:

“Hisssssssssss. Ka-chunk! Whirrr.”

Hope is a cruel mistress who seduces you into dangerous situations even though your clumsy conscience is silently screaming “She is lying! Take the bus!”

“Attention passengers on the North Shore train on Platform 16. Sorry for the delay. The signal failures in North Sydney have been resolved. We should have you home shortly.”

Twenty minutes later, the train has crawled through the city stations emerging into the sweltering evening sun light on the Harbour Bridge where a slight breeze seeps through the sliver-thin slices of space that pass for windows. The carriages are stuffed with moist and cranky passengers, fervently fanning themselves with complimentary newspapers – perhaps the most value they have ever gotten from the M X. I have sacrificed my seat to a grateful old woman with puffy arms and swollen ankles. I stretch my arm between passengers to grasp a section of the hot metal pole, steeling myself against a faint. At least I am not wearing a suit and tie.

Then the train stops. It just stops.

There is nowhere to put your eyes on a crowded train, and everyone glances around nervously, constantly shifting their focus. No one wants to be caught staring, but everyone needs to witness the agony of our shared suffering. It is too hot to chat and break the tension of our collective annoyance. Mobile phones chime incessantly with fervent messages to loved ones waiting at stations down the line. Bet their cars are nice and cool.

2 minutes. Beads of moisture trickle down my rib cage. 5 minutes. My skirt is sticking to my thighs. 10 minutes. My hair is drenched. 20 minutes. I contemplate removing my under-garments. 30 minutes. My teeth are sweating.

“Hisssssssssss. Ka-chunk! Whirrr.”

Suddenly, every face brightens at the sound of the brakes releasing their death grip on the stalled train. The glorious sound of acceleration lurches us forward bringing a small rush of fresh air down the vents. Then...

“Grrrrr, Squeeeeeeeeeeeeel. Ka-Thunk!”

The brakes lock into place and the once ebullient train slams to a stifling halt.

Despair sounds exactly like I had always imagined.