The Quiet Carriage

​On the first Friday of every month, the Australian Writers Centre reveals a new set of story prompts. Writers have 55 hours to submit their best 500-word (or fewer) story.
July 2019:
Karen was a little bit fragile when she boarded the train early Monday. The twins had been vomiting for the past 6 hours, she’d forgotten to charge her laptop overnight, and it was the day of her performance review. At least hubby-of-the-year was taking carer’s leave.
Thankfully, she was on the quiet carriage. She popped in her headphones and opened her mindfulness app.
“Good morning, passengers. This is a Wyong to Central service. Next stop Wondabyne. Please note the first and last carriages are Quiet Carriages”
“Bugger,” thought Karen. “Couldn’t hear the meditation over the announcement. Will start again.”
A few more people joined the train at the next stop. A lady, who had obviously remembered to charge her laptop overnight, began aggressively typing. Karen concentrated on meditating, and desperately tried to block any thoughts of hurling the woman’s laptop out the door at the next station.
Another intrusive guard’s announcement accompanied by unnecessarily loud chimes, and more passengers.
A youth (or hoodlum, as her mother might have called him) plonked down, slurping a drink from McDonalds. Karen attempted composure, while the clinking ice-cubes created the same effect as fingers down a chalkboard. He was clearly not listening to a mindfulness app. A tinny doof-doof sound came from his headphones. Karen tried giving him a dirty look but he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone.
More announcements. More train stops. More passengers.
Karen was determined to meditate.  She briefly considered googling ‘how to disable PA systems from trains’, but was disturbed from her reverie by another noise.
The man two rows in front had started snoring. Loudly. And yet, those around were suddenly deaf. Isn’t this a Quiet Carriage? Can’t someone just prod him, for goodness’ sake?? Or is this a Polite Carriage which is a-bit-on-the-quiet-side?

More announcements. More train stops. More passengers.
Karen thought the entire suburb of Artarmon should be quarantined. A flu epidemic just boarded the train. Coughs. Sneezes. Sniffs. Snorts.
Performance review anxiety was giving her butterflies, so she ditched the idea of guided mindful meditation, and instead repeated the mantra in her head, “I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.”
In fact, what she had was a bad pain in her tummy. Definitely not butterflies. A new mantra was forming. “I’ve got the tummy bug! I’ve got the tummy bug!”
North Sydney. Thank God! Karen fumbled for her Opal card and stood up. (She regretted not getting  off at Waverton…)
Too late. She began hurling. The aggressive typist copped it first. A brief apology while running down the aisle, where the hoodlum and the snorer each received Karen’s unique form of retribution.
By the time the doors opened, she felt better. (After all, better out than in.) Naturally, the carriage was in an uproar. Even the snorer was wide awake and shouting. Before stepping off the train, Karen glanced over her shoulder, and in her best librarian voice scolded them all.
“Ssshhhhh! This is a Quiet Carriage.”