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In transit
Sitting on the green seat closest to the aisle,
a push from the left comes from the fat man trying to get to the door.
The person next to me is listening to his iPod.
For all I know, we could be listening to the same thing.
Space is limited and it is smelly, crowded, and hot.
A man in a beat up coat stops next to me and stares blankly at my shoes.
Weirdo.
Meanwhile, a girl in a hat and matching red shoes is reading a book.
Or pretending to.Sometimes, people just want to look busy.
