I sit, waiting for the metro to bring me to my station but, as luck never seems to be on my side, I hear her voice. In her calm and clear tone of voice, she says “Interruption de service. Une porte bloquée ou retenue empêche le départ du métro”. While her words wash over me, I can see, at the corner of my eyes, two people getting up from their seats. They move quickly and I can’t help but turn around. There I see it, the reason why her voice resonated on my way home: someone fell and lies between two doors. My two neighbours are trying to help them up. Instead of hearing some huffing and puffing, I hear screams, gut-wrenching screams.

I sit, but instead of being in the metro, I am sitting on a bench at Papineau, trying to make sense of her voice: “Are you okay? Can you tell me what happened, what you saw?”