"I know most people don't care about veterans," says the beggar making his way down the aisle of the train, but then his voice vanishes as the subway doors open and the noisy platform pours in.
Woman on the platform with the black, terribly high, patent leather heels is facing away as I walk by, her long blonde hair hiding her face, and when I look away, another woman further down the platform is watching me watch her, and gives me a look to let me know she thinks I might be a pervert.
A man sitting on a wooden bench is eating chicken and cabbage and rice from a thin styrofoam container, so that everyone in a ten foot radius breathes in the warm funk of take-out.
Short woman, heavy-set, short-haired with a pock-marked face and glasses, shoves her way onto the train before the passengers have gotten off, and I feel only the smallest thrill of pleasure when somebody shoulder-checks her on their way out.
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