“I was in a bit of a rush, I had just finished a class, and was getting ready to get back into the city to get the train home.” The bearded man didn’t seem overly stressed, but he was probably just used to hiding emotions, like every man is told to by societal norms.

He checks his phone, “it’s for the timetable,” as if I care about what he’s doing on his phone, though he was starting to get visibly frustrated, probably because of the shitty network coverage outside.

He ends up walking up the stairs until he eventually gets reception. He took a while, so I guess he still had plenty of time.

I eventually noticed that there was a wall that looked like one of those warped mirrors that wouldn’t look out of place as a sideshow attraction.

A photographer was enthused by it too, and took pictures of their reflections.

The tram stop was quieter than normal, probably due to uni break, but there were still passengers. Some probably weren’t the ones you’d expect.

Eventually the bearded man’s tram arrived. “I know that the tram always stops here, but I still worry if I don’t hail it.”

I watch him running after the tram and embarking.

I’ve never seen people stickerbombing, but every day, I walk past, and new stickers are up.

More trams roll past, people get on, people get off. It’s time for me to go back upstairs, time for coffee.