Sprocket nearly misses the last train with their chronic dilly-dallying.

It'll be here in five minutes, a close cut they made by running. Now they're sweaty, panting, and fumbling for change to buy a gatorade from the old vending machine in the corner. It gets stuck, but after some kicking they get it to fall in the slot. It's lukewarm, too sweet, and glorious as they slam about half. They walk and sit on a bench while they wait, legs too tired to keep them up anymore as they take a sip of the last half of their beverage.

There's other commuters, but not many. After everything started people didn't like being out much at night. It's why they were able to get their job in the first place, there was a lack of workers willing to work the graveyard shift the way they were. It's when the Raptured roamed, and while they were harmless to everyone but those who didn't already give their sacrifice people hated looking at them. Sprocket didn't mind, though. It's not like the giants caused trouble, the most bothersome thing was when they called out in the clicking, scratchy tone that echoed forever. That's not to say they weren't disconcerting, how they towered over the skyline of the city and everything around it or how you somehow couldn't hear them coming.

Some teens jump the turnstile, laughing and interrupting Sprocket's train of thought. They scoff a bit into the plastic bottle. When did they finish their drink? It doesn’t matter much. They stand to shuffle to a trash can, momentarily consider the recycling bin next to it before dropping it into the metal cylinder that will send it to become part of some landfill forever. They'll die before it catches up to them, and then it'll be those teenagers' problems. Suck it, peace disturbers.

The train will be arriving soon, so Sprocket forgoes the bench to stand close to the faded yellow line on the platform. They watch a cockroach come from the darkness, skittering towards their sneakers. It covers the ground fast, running into the tip of the old beat up shoes they wear only to turn, and run down onto the tracks as the foreboding rumbling begins signaling the train's imminent arrival. In the darkness it settles between the two metal parts of the track, where it won't get crushed. Clever bug.

The train rounds the corner, appearing from the tunnel and slowing to a stop. They board, and sit with a sigh and wait for the doors to close so they can get the night over with.