... happen to you.

This wasn't supposed to happen to you. You've done everything right. You've been loving and supportive and charming and wonderful and blah blah. This doesn't feel like your life. You never thought this would happen to you. 

Terrible thoughts plague you—him with her and her with him and (even worse) the drone of I'm right and you're wrong. You win the arguments in your head. You're articulate and thoughtful and introspective as shit. But when you actually speak, it's horrible.

You're thinking about what you'll say when you next speak.

The train pulls up, the doors open, you shuffle to an empty seat. You put on your headphones but you're not listening to anything. You just don't want anyone to bother you.

Someone left a bag on the seat behind you. Normally, you'd attend to it, take it off at the stop with you and find a lost and found or whatever, but today, that's someone else's problem.

You know what you're going to say. And you kind of want her to cry, or, maybe not, but you want to feel better and saying this will make you feel something. Or maybe it'll just prolong this whole fucking thing, but you don't care, you're mind is made up and you've got some things you have to say.

The bag next to you starts to beep like there's a phone inside, like a really old, outdated phone.

She'll cry, you decide. 

There's smoke and destruction, but you don't see it. You don't see anything. The bag was too close to you.

This doesn't feel like your life.  This wasn't supposed to happen to you.