With the second sense that comes from riding the train every day, I look up from the book in which I'm engrossed to check which station is coming up.
"Oh goddamnit," I say out loud to no one in particular, as, through my inattention, I only now have noticed that I'm on the wrong train, and about to go express past my stop into the far reaches of darkest Brooklyn.
I do some quick calculations in my head and get off at the next stop to transfer to a returning train that, while it doesn't get me exactly where I was headed, gets me close enough.
A woman on the platform is selling churros, three for two dollars, and I buy a brown paper bag of the sugar-crusted fried dough sticks to assuage my irritation, sticking my face in the sack and munching moodily as I walk through the station to the uptown side.
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One year ago: Happy Monday
Two years ago: Too Real
Three years ago: The Day After
Four years ago: Bloody Soil
Six years ago: New Cat
Seven years ago: Falling
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