Being and Nothingness

I thought I had escaped the power outage in the confines of this train, but it turns out everyone is receiving equal punishment today. Talk about a commute. It's pitch black in here; no light is coming in from the town and the lights on the train just shut off. Needless to say, the passengers on this scantily filled train are a little more restless than they already were. Nevertheless, as I sit in the dark, I try to take my mind away from the present trouble.
I rest my head on the window-- a quite uncomfortable position-- in an effort to fall asleep, and just in this moment, I remember something: I had just been accepted into Mensa! I suddenly feel better about myself, especially compared to this dump of a town I live in. This isn't the kind of town that raises geniuses; it's the kind of town where you do what your parents did. It's the kind of town where if someone leaves for good, it's a miracle. And that miracle might just be me.
Although it might be at times limiting, I like my town. I've grown especially close to my neighbors living at The Victorian, who seem to fit the mold of this town just about as well as I do.  I feel as though The Victorian is an intermediate residence for some strange people, and because I'm one of them, it may be my duty to go out into the greater world. For now, though, I'm just stuck on a train.
In this instant, I jolt up. The lights flicker back on, and the train lurches forward. My attention moves to the dull hum of the train and the nothingness of the ride, and I think to myself: tomorrow might not be better than today.