Prague’s tram 4, at time of writing, runs from Čechovo náměstí to Radlická. The majority of its path traces along my daily commute, making it one of the trams I most frequently encounter.
Yet I almost never ride it. Our relationship is one of frequent invitations and open doors, proper and formal gestures of cordiality. But I do not accept, because tram 4 will no longer take me home.
There was a time when tram 4 not only delivered me practically to my doorstep, but did so with greater punctuality and less crowding than either of my current tram line alternatives. Back then, I would find myself at a tram stop after work, exhausted and eager to shower, and still let the other lines pass me by. I trusted that with the few-minute prolongation of my commute, tram 4 would reward me with ample personal space, or even a place to sit. And so it did.
Since April 2026, tram 4 has a new terminus – three stops before mine.
With the rest of the route unchanged, we still cross paths every day, at the same stops where I used to wait for it. It opens its doors, offering hollowly to leave me stranded, and I feel the sting of our estrangement. I feel betrayed and wistful as I watch it bring other people home. Tram 4, of course, feels nothing. It was always completely indifferent to my existence.