The train began to pick up speed, and burial rested his head against the window. The vibration of the wheels against the tracks was soothing. He needed some soothing. He looked out at the cityscape as it whipped past at an incredible speed. He didn't live in the city, he lived in a suburb, away from the noise and bustle and life. Where he lived was dead.

He thought about Lily. He would probably never see her again, like a lot of other people he felt no connection to. That sounded harsh, but it wasn't an insult. Most people don't feel a connection to the majority of other people. A "connection" isn't a prerequisite for being nice or whatever. All that takes is some human decency. He had some of that, he thought. Enough to give in to the demand to do nothing but work until he died.