The train is crowded, and people are keeping it together remarkably well, but still I envision this woman seated in front of me finally snapping, objecting to the proximity of my junk to her face. In my (now running rampant) imagination, she kicks her leg out, smashing me in the crotch, and we end up fighting, my fellow passengers have to pull her off me, or worse, me off her, blood everywhere.
I stop, breathe, adjust my posture to avoid smacking the woman behind me with my bag. "That is not what's happening, right now," I say, calming myself.
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