Night on the 1 train

The car’s door bounced in and out on the woman’s thin right arm a few times before she was able to push herself on the crowded train. I was being squeezed from both sides and caged in from above by some broken down old people, a punk rock Indian girl and a college-aged couple locked in embrace.

The old woman pushed her way through the crowd and, as she stumbled over some luggage, paused to cough from so deep inside my skin prickled a little. It was the kind of cough that only comes from those diseases that don’t just infect, they consume.

I wondered if she felt watched, even as I was unable to keep myself from staring at her weathered brown skin exposed by a baggy and stained men’s undershirt. Still hacking, she passed out of sight behind the college couple, and my eyes drifted upward to watch them. I followed his hand as it moved down her back and began caressing her ass.

She was wearing Citizens of Humanity brand jeans.

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