#Idk idk it's 1.30am I have poorly infant idk if this even makes sense

[ruthiesrambles2]

It didn't take long for the passage of time to change.

It has been 28 days since departure.

Seasons replicated artificially in the greenhouse cars, but otherwise hours rolled into hours, days into days. Every morning, a voice from above, from ahead: Wilford Industries wishes you good morning, and the sun creeping in if you were blessed with a window. Otherwise the long night: the belly of the train, the storage cars, sanitation. Every evening the same: Wilford Industries wishes you good night.

It has been 109 days since departure.

A calendar was hardly an essential item, nor a sentimental one.

And so, weeks, months, years ceased to exist.

It has been 431 days since departure.

And so it was, in third class, amongst the working folk. Dates were like a distant memory. Some family heirloom in the attic that you know you'll probably never touch or use or think of. But you hold onto it. For posterity.

It has been 796 days since departure.

The doctor knows her wedding anniversary is soon. But she's skipped a day, she thinks, somewhere in her calculations. She tries to work it out again, presses the heel of her hand into her eyes. She's tired. Everyone is tired.

It has been 1126 days since departure.

Ruth knows the days of the week by their menu. Coq au vin, she writes in neat script. Tuesday, she thinks. And she knows - or at least, she's read in the event planner - that it is Tuesday the 12th July. The birthday celebration has been planned for 60 days or more. A cake, abhorrent in its splendour, waits at the bakery (she'll collect it herself, and take some brakemen with her, she thinks).

It has been 1126 days since departure.

There's a part of her that hates this. The part that knows half the world starves so this 13 year old rich girl gets to eat cake with mummy and daddy. Ruth works hard to squash that part.

It has been 1126 days since departure.

The room is resplendent, cherry blossom branches adorn the tables and Ruth sighs as she smells them. Some childhood dream flits vaguely in and out of her conscious mind.

It has been 1126 days since departure.

The party goes off without a hitch. Wilford sends his regards by way of a note in Melanie's hand. The Folgers show their gratitude by barely complaining when the champagne limit is reached.

It has been 1126 days since departure.

Ruth slips off her heels as the office door closes behind her. She doesn't bother with a light; the full moon illuminates her footsteps through the wide window. Wilford would be proud, she thinks.

The reflection of the moonlight on a plate catches her eye. A slice of cake, left on her desk. And that squashed part threatens to become unsquashed - a single tear wiped swiftly away. A peak at an heirloom left in an attic.

It is 12th July.

Happy birthday Ruth, the note reads, and Ruth stares at it.

Behind her, on the panelled wall, the clock hand passes midnight.

It has been 1127 days since departure.

#Idk idk it's 1.30am I have poorly infant idk if this even makes sense #ruth wardell #snowpiercer #snowpiercer tv #snowpiercer tnt