The evening train is crammed with bodies tormented by the
cold and eager to get home. They clog
the doors and scoff at those unwilling to move until the conductor is yelling
and pumping her red close door button.
Worn eyes and tired hands are kept to themselves; headphones and
cellphones our only friends. I'm lucky
to get a seat.
“I wish it cost more,” she says. “Then I feel like it might be worth it.”
My mind filters in the sweet voice, yearning for
conclusion. I can't see her face, but
her friend nods in agreement. And so do
I. I want whatever she's having.
A quick stop later and they are are off; two school girls
looking for trouble. Or ice cream.
My gaze shifts to my reflection in the window and I fade into
the hum of the crowd finding its way home.
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