Loincloth and Laundry

I'm hoping for another quiet day in the neighborhood as I leave for work. Up late last night and having slept so little, I'm extremely tired and the 20 lbs. of dirty laundry slung over my shoulder isn't helping. I've been sending out my laundry ever since the price of quarters went up, and the only difference today is that I'm late for work and shouldn't have bothered. Unfortunately, I only have one set of sheets left and I'm running low on undies too, so a delay just wouldn't be wise.

On the way to the train station I spot David S. in the distance, too far to even wave. Further on, at 186th street, I run into Esther B. She's on the way to class and complains about the fact that law school runs through the summer. Her hair is set in two small braids, pinned to the sides of her head. I tell her I think her sunglasses look masculine, and she responds that they are Ray-Ban aviators. In this case, neither the brand name nor the style increase femininity, but she insists and we leave the matter alone.

In front of the station, we run into Scott S. When he says hi, Esther points out that we all grew up in Miami, although I'm significantly older than both of them and had already moved to New York when they were still children. The three of us walk to the turnstiles together and Esther and I pass through but Scott experiences a metrocard malfunction. The train is coming so there is no waiting around, we go on without him.

Down the stairs I say goodbye to Esther and quickly head towards my usual spot further on the platform. The train pulls in and just as I board I catch a glimpse of the opera lady through the glass in the doors. I smile but she does not smile back, though it does not matter. Finally alone, I sit back on the nearest bench to enjoy the sweet tunes of Kate Nash playing in my very own earphones, and I think about her and all the things her music reminds me of.