god on the train
Aaaah (pleasant sigh opposed to psychotic scream). Music. I turned it off for a long time. It somehow makes being late for work with no coat and wet hair in the middle of winter much more bearable.
There’s a man next to me on the train. He’s wearing headphones too. There’s an open book in his lap. He’s staring out the window as we travel backwards. I hear the static of screaming guitars blasting from his direction over the soft whisper of Deep Forest humming from my iPod. We all keep our ears plugged these days.
The man, who’s wearing a grey beanie and Roy Orbison glasses, turns away from the rain outside and back to his book. I try to read over his shoulder but all I can make out are a few words, ‘Son of Ra, Divine Ruler.’
Train boy doesn’t strike me as much of a deity. Maybe that’s why he blankly gazes between the open pages and droplet racing windows. I consider bringing a book to rest open on my lap tomorrow. I start thinking about what mood I’m in to portray myself as, in case someone leans in close enough to catch a phrase. I decide to purchase a Quantum Physics book during lunch today.
The damp weather has seeped through my clothes and is penetrating my chest. I must find a way to beat this chill. My teeth are evidently chattering.
A man sitting on the other side of me in cheap business slacks and a very practical pair of black loafers also has an open book on display. Massive Attack starts to warm me up. I turn my head with eyes rolled downward toward text only able to pull the word ‘God’ from the left page before sensing his suspicion.
And then I notice someone new, sitting across from me. He must have been there the entire time. He has short, messy hair, hasn’t shaved for days, and is wearing dark lens sunglasses that match the sky outside. His ears aren’t plugged. He isn’t reading about ‘God’. He notices me observing him. He offers me his coat.