He walked down the steps into the subway station and toward the turnstiles. It was wet and drippy and orange and dark blue and dirty underground. He moved calm but as sleek as oil nearing the rumblings of the coming and going trains and trolleys, being careful not to slip in the puddles. As he moved, his hand rummaged through his side pocket in preparation for quick passage. He was used to these long days and the repetitions that went with them. He was trained. But at the last moment, and during his turn, a woman shoved him out of the way . She dropped her token in the slot and wrenched through the turnstile. His heart pumped and blackened his brain dizzy. He saw her fumbling and stumbling toward the steps to the tracks. Overreacting to the importance of one train which was sure to be followed by many more during this and every other rush hour. He stared at her. She had bleached blonde hair a denim jacket and pouffy boots. Stumbling.
"I hope you miss it... Bitch." he whispered to himself as he walked slowly down the steps that ran parallel to hers. When he reached the crowded tracks he saw the 13 just about to pull away. "I don't run for trains" he thought. "There will be another one." As soon as that thought drifted through his brain another 13 trolley pulled up in front of him. It was empty. He got on and looked through the window at the other tracks. There she was. And that denim jacket. She looked worried.
The trolley jerked forward into the darkened tunnel. He glared.
