The silver Hair on the empty Train

"i was trying to find my seat on an old commuter train because i had to give a presentation to my middle school art teacher, but every train car was totally empty except for rows of abandoned suitcases. i went into the tiny restroom at the end of the aisle to fix my collar before the train stopped, and when i looked into the rusted metal mirror, my hair looked completely different. it wasn't just a few strands either--my entire head of hair had turned this pale, metallic silver-gray, almost like spun glass. i reached up and touched it, expecting it to feel wirey or dry, but it was surprisingly soft and cold. i stood there staring at my reflection for what felt like hours, trying to figure out if this happened overnight or if i had somehow lost track of twenty years while walking down the train cars. there was no panic or anything, just this heavy, disorienting fog in my head. then all of a sudden i was standing on a windy sports field holding a giant stack of wet newspapers, but every time the wind blew, i could see those long silver strands whipping across my face, and i still couldn't figure out who i was supposed to be giving the papers to."