Collector’s Items

I’m pretty late to work again. In the elevator with me is my neighbor’s son, a high school junior on his way to class. Last night we also rode together, and he had been out of breath after a long jog.

A man, wearing khaki pants, rides up to the station in a fold up bicycle, which he collapses just as he reaches the entrance. I head through the turnstiles and onto the platform, which is particularly crowded today. The train arrives and there is a mad rush for the seats. I find one near a man who might very well be homeless, based on his appearance. He has on board with him: a hand-truck with two dirty boxes, a crate full of old items, an IKEA shopping bag, a chain, and large padlock. He doesn't smell though, so the seat is fine.