Boarded the train in the am, 2:45.

I commandeered the first pair of seats I saw in front.

I’ve just never cared to sit in the back.

Nothing to do with my skin complication– some sad absurd grudge held against the past.

There was a man though…

He bared the palest of white skin, he was overtly dirty, wearing faded black clothes a gangly red-grey beard and a tattoo on his forehead.

The word I couldn’t quite make out

And I didn’t try for very long.

I hated the way he looked back at me…

I could see all his demons in his eyes.

A woman followed him, I didn’t know if they were acquainted, neither did I care too,

Although I could tell she was tired.

Shit, we all were.

She brought with her a threadbare bag;

Quite off white.

She held it tight.

And who am I to judge it may have contained great value.

In my bag- there were only clothes. Nothing I couldn’t get rid of;

Nothing I couldn’t replace if necessary.

The train is filling–

I was filling with anxiety…

Who will be sitting next to me?