"I don't usually sit on the subway," I say to Katie, who nods. "But now all this stuff is at, like, eye level," I continue, indicating all the people around us.
"So now I want to touch stuff - like reach into her jacket pocket," right in front of us, "or adjust her volume," woman off to our left who's been listening at deafening levels to what sounds like a recording of someone building a house by hand using a hammer and a singing saw.
"Yeah, don't do that," Katie agrees.
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