Suicide takes imagination! All the way down to the door…
…the open door…
…and suddenly he was scrambling toward it, getting to his feet before the first startled roar erupted from behind him, on his feet and running now, running, as the train threw him from side to side and the chorus of shouting voices mounted in intensity and the first shot went off, a thunderclap followed by a whistling past his ear that turned into a pwinging and a pwinging and a shattering of glass as the bullet ricocheted off one wall, then another, and then smashed through a window, but none of that mattered because he was running, running faster, and the door was right in front of him, he could see the floor buckling on the platform between it and the door that lay beyond it, also open, also waiting for him as he went through the first door and leaped across the space between and landed in the last car of the train with both feet, still running, still running, toward the back…
…toward the end…