The Subway Diaries: West Side.

I have to go up the west side this morning.

I enjoy the west side more. The trains are less packed, the people are more calm. Most of the folks around me have their eyes closed. The woman across the isle looks like a statue. 

She's in all beige, looking soft in the subway lights. Her short hair is highlighted and matches her suit. At first glace, she seems peaceful. But a look closer and her expression is twisted. She looks like she's in pain, not physical but emotional.

I wonder what is in her life. She looks as though she could be devorced, maybe with a son of college are. Perhaps loans trouble her, or, if I'm correct about the divorce, it's that which occupies her mind. She has slender fingers wrapped around a tote bag from Sobey's. Her lunch perhaps. 

I'm staring at her from the corner of my eye and feel as though she could be an aunt or maybe a stepmom. As we stop at Museum Station, her eyes flash open, staring back at me. She glides through the open subway doors before I can even realize it. Traces of her pained look linger where she sat, then they are gone.

I feel slightly haunted.