Shoe Circle

On my way through the turnstiles I see Michael P. walking out. At least I think it’s him. Having not seen him in about a decade it’s difficult to tell, and I also can’t quite imagine what he ‘d be doing in my neighborhood, but I’m pretty certain it was him.

On the platform, I see Kara G. saying her morning prayers and wave. She says hi. I also see the guy from my office building, who lives near me and who’s name I can’t ever remember. Further on down the platform, I see Zehava K. She is afraid to talk to me, and there are no seats left on the bench, so I just wander about. A cute blond in a denim skirt tells her boyfriend he looks “really sharp” (he does), and, pointing to his sneakers, he asks if she likes his new “ten-ees.” When the train pulls in, they kiss goodbye and he walks towards the front.

Zehava is also wearing a denim skirt, although not nearly as short or as tight as the blond. I ask about her sandals, which have a cute flower near the big toe. She bought them in Israel two summers ago and wore them every day. We board the train and agree to zone out – Zehava listens to her iPod and reads the paper, I turn on my Blackberry and fade.