The Red Handbag - Creative Writing

Here is a little story I wrote last night.
I could not sleep so I started writing.
My story is in response to a paragraph written by a girlfriend of mine.
Here it goes....


The Red Handbag

The crowd descends the staircase in silence.
All that can be heard is the shuffle of sleepy feet.
Left-right-left 
All are prisonners in the hell that is 9 to 5.

They all quicken their pace 
as the vibration of the approaching train can be felt underfoot.
Everyone is in a hurry to arrive at their destination.
Being late means there is no time 
to stop at Tim Horton's before work.
"I'll take a double-double, please."

An old man descends the stairs one at a time
on his way to the embarkment.
In his right hand he holds his cane
while his left hand grips onto the central bannister.
In his younger days he used to run marathons
but today he is going nowhere fast.
He is tired.
He is tired of life.
And some days he daydreams about when he will rejoin his beautiful Doris
in the sweet hereafter.

Behind the old man is a young woman in a hurry.
She is so young that she is in a hurry to get on with her life.
Reflexively she starts to sigh loudly in exasperation.
Her most prominent feature is her handbag.
It is big and red.

When she hears the sound of the train doors opening,
the young woman passes the old man.
In her haste she bangs into the old man with her big, red handbag.
There is no time to slow down.
Slowing down means that life,
like the train, 
will leave her behind.

With little Geisha steps she moves towards the train doors.
Her heels are high enough to cause a sprain 
should she take a misstep: to her beauty is about pain and sacrifice.
Despite the pain and the sacrifice and the high-heeled shoes,
she manages to slip into the subway just in time.
Destiny is on her side.
She will have time to stop at Starbucks
for her extra hot soy-latte.

The subway is so packed that she is barely in the train.
Nobody moves aside to give her some space.
The crowded train resists her efforts
to move deeper into the subway car.
Fuck!
Half of her big, red handbag is hanging out of the train.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
She knows that she cannot get off 
and wait for the next train.
If she does her life will pass her by.

The train doors close.
Most of the big, red handbag is hanging outside the doors.
She feels close to tears.
She loves that big, red bag.

As she turns around to struggle with the doors,
trying in vain to get them to open,
she sees the old man that she passed on the staircase.
He is on his hands and knees 
at the foot of the stairs.
Serves him right, she thinks, for being so slow.
She pushes again to seperate the doors:
a final attempt to rescue her handbag.
One last push and the doors reopen.
An invible hand pushes her off the train.
The doors close.
The train starts to move away.

Her bag is safe
and now
she has no choice but to wait for the next train.
Well, she thinks, might as well kill some time.

With little Geisha steps she moves towards the old man.

Well that is my post for today....