It was crowded in the subway and all the seats were taken. I was standing in the middle of the subway car, holding on to a metal pole, when I noticed the man seated in front of me. Red in the face, he was talking angrily to John, jerking his head to his left. I looked at the person beside him, lips were moving, but the lips had lipstick. I don’t think her name was John.
The heated conversation went on. He said, “Shut up!” then he said, “No you shut up!” I was praying that he’d go, “Sorry for the inconvenience, but I was practicing for my acting class,” or “You just got punk’d!” Then again, I thought, I’m in New York, weirdos are normal, hell, psychos are normal.
When the girl next to him reached her stop, no one took the vacant seat. I wanted to move to another area, but I was afraid that I might catch his attention, and he’d go, “Why are you moving away from me?” I didn’t think about leaving the car and getting on the next train. I just stood there and hoped that he wouldn’t attack me. When he left, some people let out a sigh of relief, but most were in deep spaced out silence as though they were so used to seeing a guy argue with himself.
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Age of the Diary by Jasmine T. Cruz. If you like this post, please subscribe to this blog. Follow Ja on Twitter: ageofthediary. Email Ja at: firstname.lastname@example.org.