yesterday, the subway was over-crowded. wall to wall with people, such that some standing riders were towering over the seated passengers. one of these human towers, a tall white man in a sweat suit, peered down at the woman seated in front of him — her eyes at crotch level. she wore headphones and tried hard to remain in the world of her music.
the man smiled at her, waggled his tongue in a suggestive manner.
the woman did not seem amused, yet she still released a slight hint of a smirk, and closed her eyes to dive back into her music.
the man laughed to himself and reached into his sweatshirt’s front pocket. he pulled out his phone, all the while still leaning over the woman as he held onto the ceiling bar during the rough ride. he typed on his phone a moment, then swung it around to face the woman. a brief glance would tell you that he’d pulled up the screen to dial a number.
the woman still had her eyes closed, so the man tapped her nose. she didn’t appear angry, but opened her eyes and grabbed his phone. she looked at the screen, and again that smirk. she pushed the phone back into the man’s hands and closed her eyes again, nodding her head more noticeably to the music.
the man laughed again, tucked the phone back into his pocket.
this was all done without a word spoken on a crowded train, the moment one of millions every day that is probably forgotten by many, but worth noting from time to time.