Regret
Storyboard Text
- There's a low rumble of the rails, with the echo of the few people up as late as him trotting throughout the station
- Our main character sits, staring off to the tracks of the train station
- He can't remember the time, only that it's late and how he's extremely tired, and exhaustion is getting the better of him.
- At least that's what it seems like at first. On second look, he seems to be looking through the tracks, deep in thought
- A train exits in front of the main character, and an older, familiar looking face awaits him
- The main character looks up, and upon seeing the older man he feels encouraged to enter the train.
- "Yeah...", the main character mumbles. "I think this is my stop". He takes a brief moment to assess his surroundings. The 87? Yeah, the 87".
- He seems to be sleeping, yet has a strong grip on the bar next to him.
- For eight minutes, the two sat in silence, the only ones on the train. Empty thoughts filled the main characters head, fuzz in his
- The lights began to flicker, with a rumble growing from the rails fighting with the subway it carried. The older man sat firmly, eyes opened and staring at the MC
- "Sorr- what?", the main character said, faltering in his words as if still processing them while giving his respons
- "You want to go to the Golden Gate Bridge at this hour? I find that hard to believe" the old man muttered.
- "it's okay, Tristan" hollered the man, barely making any noise over the cries from the rails. "It's okay to make mistakes, but you must not forget!"
- "This isn't your time." the old man said slowly, solemnly. His eyes remained closed, hand still gripping the rail.
- 'Wouldn't your kids worry about you?", the old man asked, tilting his head closer to the main character.
- The main character can feel the eyes of the old man on him but couldn't face him. The pressure was immense. Suddenly he could feel the clamminess of his mouth, dryness of his tongue
- Suddenly the train felt as though it was hitting turbulence. It was a struggle for the MC to stay in his chair, with the splintered leather seats digging into his hands that gripped for balance
- "A man shouldn't leave his family alone on a night like this, lest they start to worry" The old man seemed unaffected by the shaking, accustomed to the rhythm of the rattle. His tone remained unwavering, as if rehearsed and practiced
- "Please let me off!" Tristan screamed, to no one in particular. Or rather, to anyone who could listen. "I can't fix it, I can't"
- "But you can, Tristan!" the old man screamed, meeting the eyes of Tristan after he remembered his presence. He was missing an eye, and the left side of this face resembled a tattered truffle cake. "Do not forget, Tristan. You can't, it is not your time!". With the realization hitting Tristan, the subway lights fizzled out
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