Raindrops splatter on our screen as torrents of rain cascade down in front of us. Looking down from a bird's eye view, we glimpse busy intersections and the occasional train in the midst of its route, struggling to meet its stringent timing. 7 minutes off peak, 3 minutes during peak hours. But we digress.
We swoop down gently for the comfort of viewers, and land on a pink van that promises to vanish and forget stains. So we poop. It's quite hard to forget the stain though, since it doesn't vanish just yet.
Bobbing to the edge, we leave the relieved fowl, and dive into the world of escalators, save the earth plastic bags, and shops of every race, language and religion, broadcasting the same hit song. The one we've heard a million times before.
We glance to our left and focus our attention on a male in his late teens. Using his left hand to rapidly fire off several text messages, we shift to his right hand sporting a paper cup with condensation forming on its exterior.
We zoom in on the condensation and follow a droplet's slow descent to the bottom of the cup. With a slight victory jig, it free-falls a couple of metres before landing on a spider on a green metallic railing, dealing it a fatal blow. 'Death by Water' the headlines scream in the following day's Spider Times.
We look up, feeling a little oozy from the fall. In our sight, a black strip of rubber glides at a gentle ascent. We pivot to our right and observe a couple stepping onto the escalator, the female first, the male behind, both within the yellow box and hands firmly on the handrail.
Leaping forward, we land on the black conveyor belt between their hands, still watching them. In his early twenties, the guy smoothly leans forwards and murmurs into the girl's right ear. "Has anyone told you how gorgeous you are?" his tone soothing and with an air of self-confidence.
She turns away, looking into the distance, perhaps at a loss for words, or simply waiting to hear what he would say or do next. He doesn't say anything. His hand moves forward and gently entwines his fingers with hers. Her hand jerks slightly, only visible to the observant eye, but she does not speak nor glance at him.
Freeze screen! Now we ask ourselves how this should end.
Perhaps the female is mute, thus unable to speak and this is a story of a love that transcends senses.
Or this is a tale of seduction by a guy who aids his friends with love advices, but is unable to find the love he seeks.
Or a girl who dreams of escaping her troubled upbringing, wishing for someone to believe in her, that she can turn her lofty dreams and high aspirations to reality.
You decide.
