I love train rides. I like watching the people on them - some kids, all with their cell phones out, talking and laughing, some tourists, but mostly people who are tired and want nothing more than to get home. I like watching the scenery - mostly apartment buildings with the laundry out to dry, but some parks and trees.

It’s spring, and the cherry blossoms are beginning to come out. Most trees are about half-way - buds bursting forth, but others lazing.

We pull into a stop a few stations from my destination, and the window across the way is filled with a tree in full bloom. I try to appreciate it, but more than the tree itself, I am enjoying being able to just sit on the train, having it as a backdrop more than anything.

An announcement I don’t understand, and an unusually long wait. The local trains will occasionally stop for a few minutes if they’re ahead of schedule, but not this long. Ten minutes, and then fifteen. Another announcement I don’t understand. A man on the other side of the train stares, like he’s lost in thought, but I think he’s enjoying being homeward-bound.

Eyes all through the train look up, except for this man. I follow their gaze, and find four men carry someone on a stretcher. I can’t see the face, because someone’s sweater covers it, and others cover the rest of the body. A fifth man walks behind them carrying a backpack - I assume the deceased’s.

First I thought it was a little ironic, the whole “things coming to life, cherry blossoms budding” thing in light of this, but then I actually wonder if the guy wouldn’t have killed himself if he could have gotten laid five minutes before that. I don’t know why I thought that, and I admit I felt a little bad about it, but still.

Twenty minutes later, we’re at my stop, and I get off - the end of the line. I told myself I should go look at the front of the train to see the damage, but I forgot. They probably wouldn’t have let people see, anyway.