A World of Grey

I visited a place once, not too far from here.
I couldn’t tell you how to get there, but that’s probably for the best.
The people there walked quickly with their hands in their pockets, always looking down and hiding beneath their hats and long overcoats.
They towered above me.
Their faces were hidden, but still they were expressionless.
They all looked the same. All dressed in grey and black.
I clearly didn’t belong in this place and yet no one seemed to notice me.
They were preoccupied. Busy.
Heading swiftly to their destinations and focusing on nothing else.
Their actions were by rote.
Everything they did was void of meaning.
Just subconsciously going through the motions.
The same motions they’d been going through since as far back as anyone could remember. It was the same thing day after day through those damp, colourless streets.
Nobody smiled.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody talked to one another.
They were busy.
I didn’t like this place.
I didn’t understand.
So I ran.
I found my way home eventually, but the memories still linger.
They say that everybody ends up there one day, and seldom ever leave.
But I pray I’ll never have to see that place again.
And I hope you never have to either.