7:45-7:58PM

I wrote this months ago on facebook notes but decided to move it here.

After stepping off the platform of the D train into a somewhat unfamiliar yet unerringly comfortable chilly summer night, he slowly and hazily begins to walk the 30 something paces from the point of the doors of the train from which he appears; to reach the stairwell that leads to the exit. He yawns with his arms outstretched careful not to hit other passengers on the platform. It appears he had just woken up and from his original starting point which was about a 45 minute nap after he had transfered from the E train in the city about 10 miles away. The door of the locomotive finally closed behind him and he's in no rush to move so he half hazardly makes note of each face that follows closely behind him as they catch up to pass. A grin, a sneer, no smiles at all. Not that he cares. He paces slowly. It's not crowded though they are absurdly quiet through this routine. Maybe they all are as tired as he is, but he just came from work.

Weird huh?

Anyway, as it has been for the last few decades, the 62nd street station lately is modernized with fresh paint and trash cans that don't do any justice to the denitrifying architecture of this train stop. There's a roof on that platform that by this point shouldn't exist cause it doesn't do it's job. The huge holes channel more water during rain season in specific spots and those areas just happen to be where it's best to stand. It's one of those train stations that are elevated so not much garbage really accumulates here. Only bird shit. Dare we even say this is one of the more sanitary MTA depots. Regardless wet paint signs hang here weekly and lately "track repair/schedule delays" paper prints hang here like beer ads. It's officially summer so this is bullshit news to read in the morning. "Rather, horrible when your drunk" he says to the narrator.

He stops at a midway point and lights up a smoke. Inhaling slowly, standing up with arms on a banister that has a clear view of a rather quaint neighborhood. Dark and broody if your gonna stand here in this particular evening with this particular sunset but has it's charms once moved 2 blocks in any direction. Friends and relationships are possible and this part of Brooklyn is where trouble won't find you, but neither will love and affection if sat stale. Bensonhurst/Bay ridge. Generations of gentrification from the Italians and Jews alike will show you this as more asians and blacks start having children who has sex with everyone. Yeah I said it. A lingering smell of Burgerking can be smelled from almost anywhere. The details of this is whole other sidestory. Still, all this time he has one hand on the banister and the other rocketship ashing his cigarette ashes. He had stopped paying attention for a while the number of trains that has passed above while people were moving their way into the street, ultimately back home. Every now and then he'll stare at a face but not too long for that would be a sign of intimidation. No one familiar yet nothing appealing about their faces. Their emotions as a whole has been shut down almost like a defense mechanism, tucked away carefully in a mental bank to be carefully spent with the correct social interactions. Oh well, thats just the nature of a big city. It's pretty cute when your the only one that notices. Just try not to be noticed noticing the unnotified.

Flicking down the butt, he sees that another train has arrived. People are getting pumped in rhythmically from the train again traveling through this iron and wood capillary. He starts feeling ready for home so he regains his bearings and travels still, down towards the swinging doors. He is surrounded by foot steps now, he was never one to really walk fast to gain ground. Those who are rushing have gained some distance all the while, politely, holding these doors open for the next person, in a rather disconnected display of hive life. This is a habit that is picked up from a frequent train user. Me and you both are guilty also. It's disgusting how plainly someone would push and hold out a door for a split second with just enough time for the next person to catch it. Sometimes you have it unintentionally slammed in your face and that is the most annoying fucking thing in the world. Fuck you.

He decides that maybe this time he won't be so pietistically vain, so he'll hold open the door for the next person. Smile. Don't forget. The young spanish couple who are possibly still in highschool smiled back. A thankful one. "Well, I'll be damned, you just made me fucking day" he thinks to himself. With this modestly king like duty done for he continues walking out of the station holding one hand in front so the turnstile bar won't uncomfortably jab his groin, and lights one more cigarette with a book of black and white matches and walks out the final door that is propped open by an aluminum door stopper.