Narative

Riding the train, she observes her crowded companions

This man's arm, reaching for a grip, is so placed that if she were to lean forward, just slightly, the two would be found in an intimate embrace.

That man's face, so nonchalantly close, so everyday riding the train close, so openly close, that Emily longs to reach out and touch it. Make contact with that which is so foreignly intimate.

Who are you? She silently asks,
Why can't I know you?
Would you like to know me?
Do you wonder at who I am ?

Afraid that her fellow riders might guess her thoughts, Emily embraces instead, her warm sugary 7/11 drink.

Another day on the train, she thinks, so much time waisted.