The 8.15

It was the same routine every weekday morning. I'd grab my usual coffee, hop on the 8:15 train to work, and arrive at the office by 9 like clockwork. The crowded train was filled with other commuters going through their own monotonous rituals. Staring at phones, listening to music, reading books - anything to pass the time during the long ride.

After a few months I started to recognize familiar faces among the passengers. There was the old man in the corner who always seemed to be sleeping; the college student with funky colored hair who bobbed her head to music; the well-dressed businesswoman engrossed in stocks on her tablet. We were like background actors in each other's daily commutes.

Until one day, I realized something peculiar. It was the same exact people every day. Not just familiar faces, but literally the exact same people doing the exact same things. The old man asleep in his spot, the student bopping to her playlist, the businesswoman fixated on her tablet. Even their clothes never seemed to change.

At first I thought it was just a coincidence. But after a week of seeing the same frozen scenes replay every morning, my confusion grew. Didn't these people have anywhere else to go? Why did they seem trapped in the same routine day after day?

I tried interacting with them, but they stared right through me as if I didn't exist. The businessman with his paper, the couple sharing headphones, the mother tending her infant - none would respond. It was like being surrounded by zombies oblivious to the world.

Week after week it continued. The same passengers locked in their repetitive cycles. My attempts to disrupt their patterns failed. Was I losing my mind? Then one morning, a new passenger boarded. He gave me a knowing nod, seeing the confusion in my eyes. As he departed, he leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, your stop is coming up next."

When I got out of the train, there, the new passenger stood, now garbed in a white lab coat, holding what looked like a remote control. "Your stop indeed," he said cryptically, pressing a button on the device, as the world around me glitched and shimmered.

I had been living in a simulation all along.