The car was too crowded for her to be able to just walk up to the young woman who wore an outfit which for all its garishness actually suited her quite well. Their eyes met as if by telepathic connection. And the older woman decided to stay where she was and not advance. She could have advanced, to be sure, but there was something in her which told her to stay and just watch the enticing young thing.<br/><br/>She looked at her youthful skin, her luxuriant hair, and the posture of her body.  There was a defiance in it, a joie de vivre so powerful that it almost seemed to vibrate in its intensity. Her clothes spoke of a mind fierce in its independence, almost aggressively though. The older woman looked at her and wondered. Why had she targeted her? She wasn't terrible looking, but way past her prime and not a top shelf item by a long shot. Not ever. But even less so now. And yet, the girl had awakened something in her. Ever since meeting her her mind had been involved in peregrinations through all her preconceptions not only about others but very much so herself,  and what she had considered her identity. She had come to the conclusion, that she, in truth had had no identity. She had grown up the perfect daughter, had taken on her parents expectations and performed in dance classes, art lessons, and learned to cook a reasonable meal. She had married shortly after university to a young man who himself had now placed her under his expectations. Or rather, she conceded, not having developed any identity beside that which garnered her praise and peace at home, and in class, she had placed herself under his.  And there she had stayed until he had left one day. He had to find himself, he had said, and he did, in the arms of a younger woman. Surprisingly his leaving had not left her in the state she had feared it would. She moved on with a resilience she hadn't known she possessed. Or was it less resilience and more of an internal numbness, an absence of caring for him, and others. She had fulfilled her role as a wife, but failed to do the same as a mother. Unbeknownst to her before their marriage, a childhood bout of rubella had left her unable to conceive. It was this failure which had slowly eroded a passionless marriage and driven him into the arms of a younger, hopefully fertile woman.<br/><br/>The events of the past few days had woken something in her, and as that something had begun to stir and uncoil in her, she had begun to view the world differently. She looked at the automatons near her, around her, realizing she had been no different until recently but now wanted, more than anything to leave this world behind. She had already toyed with the idea of quitting her job, she had enough money stashed away from her inheritance, and from her earnings, to retire at this juncture; and a juncture it certainly was.<br/><br/>A group of passengers disembarked at the next station and she was able to walk up to the young woman and look at her, look at those clear eyes, those penetrating eyes. She knew what she wanted at this point. She knew what she would be doing.