observations

there is a man with a Mohawk, two rows ahead. A real Mohawk, with his head shaved on the sides. he’s two rows ahead, chugging pbr and letting the last bit drip down his throat. two rows ahead, he smacks his lips and I accidentally make eye contact with him. sharks jersey and squinty eyes, like he’s seen too much today. eye contact again. awkward. two rows ahead. the train stops for a bit, the announcer mumbling station names across the speakers. buzzing fluorescent lights, unflattering for everyone. we all look like zombies, washed out and tired. no one would guess that today was beautiful.