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?