“Fuck.”
She whispers under her breath
and her eyes dart to the floor.
She makes herself smaller.
Crosses her legs.
Hugs her purse.
Muscles tense.
She counts the seconds.
1. 2. 3. 4.
Trying to remember how many
stops are left without looking
up because a second of
eye contact might
explode her already racing heart.
She feels him inching closer.
He was on the other side of the train,
but now she can feel his arm against hers,
his heated breath sending shivers down her spine.
The train is not empty.
There are plenty of witnesses,
but that does not soothe any
thought in her mind.
She is still trying to figure out how to
escape as every other person is
reading or
playing Candy Crush on their phones or
staring out the window,
even though we are in a
tunnel and who even plays
Candy Crush
anymore?

She picks up her phone to call anyone.
They answer.
“You’re picking me up, right?
Okay.
I’ll be there soon.”
She hangs up.
He gathers his things and
gets off the train at the next stop.

But that’s just a coincidence.
Right?

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