a few songs southbound

Sep 29, 2009 00:15

An out of practice writer seats herself in the corner of a subway during rush hour. With transients getting up, sitting down and hanging on, she searches faces and carry-ons in efforts to find a story.

Standing at the entrance of one of the sliding doors, a man clutches an old Gatorade bottle he filled with water. His ipod strings are hidden beneath his gray crewneck t-shirt and connected to the source of his music, tucked away in the back pocket of his light brown cargo pants. His backwards baseball cap is as dirty as his construction boots, his face void of expression and he will remain irrelevant to the girl writing in a few stops. But, for a brief moment, he existed and filled her vision and temporary state of boredom.

Rather than study strangers, she thinks of some of the main cast members who make daily appearances in her life. She entertains a few thoughts and fantasies she’d deny in any conversation - either over coffee or beer.

She considers the state of several friendships and assesses how close or distant she feels to these people. She briefly imagines a scenario that a romantic moment could arise and shudders at the awkward feelings this fantasy elicits.

As the destination approaches, the writer develops some anxiety. There is a pleasant state of introspection that can arise on a long subway ride that results in new perspectives on things and life. Though she always dreads getting on, she is always reluctant to get off.
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