King's Cross St Pancras Station

On the next day of the explosion, I went back to Manchester.

My cousin is the main reason that dragged me to London this time.

I was hoping to work on my thesis as I have not even started it yet.

However, my uncle's phone call from Taiwan made me to London to pick up my cousin in

Heathrow and so I went.



This was why I was in London when the bombs exploded.



I might be on that train if I accepted my friend's invitation to Oxford.



Having this idea in mind, I found myself in a awkard situation.



In fact, I dont even know how to 'imagine' being on that train.

That night, we watched BBC news broadcasting the images.

I saw a man crying while talking on his mobile.

A policewoman came and comforted him.

We all silenced.



That morning, I was wakened by a phone call.

What followed was my anxiety and worries.

I know I must have called a thousand times.

None to be connected.

Though I know it must be the network, the whole system was overloaded

I still have to call.

To make sure that everyone is fine.



CJ didnt go to work since he cant go into the station. All London undergrounds were closed

immediately. We tried to comfort each other by smoothing our tone and hiding our worries.

But we both knew, you were not home, Daphnine was not home.



The radio kept repeating. Information at that time was very limited. There's no TV at home,

we can only imagine and visualize the images.

But how can I visualize this terror?



We were on the train travelling to Euston station.

The train stopped at King's Cross St Pancras station.

The door remained closed. No one was in the platform.

I cant see how it happened the day before,

but I felt the sorrow and terror.

Quietly, no one made a sound.

The train proceeded.



The death toll is still rising, many missing are now confirmed dead.

We are lucky to be alive and safe.

But we are now living with this terror.