As I was racing to work yesterday morning, I boarded my usual train to take me to SoHo. As I stood on the opposite side of the car from the door, which would open when we arrived at Broadway/Lafayette, I noticed a man in front of me waiting to exit the train. He had long, black hair, pulled back in a rubber band and wore tight embroidered jeans. A puke brown leather jacket, which tightly fit his feminine back, complemented the outfit, which looked pretty edgy and worn.
As we glided between stops, I occupied my time by noticing every detail--his demeanor, bodily movements, as well as his hands, which were tightly wrapped around the pole to his right. They blinded me with their pasty whiteness. I then focused in on how dry, cracked and almost inhuman they were. It was at that point, since I was sleep-deprived and in need of some morning excitement, that I went into a whole, fantastical scenario, in which his fingers, which currently sported the worst manicure ever, suddenly sprouted talons. He dramatically whipped around, revealing the most sinister red eyes and the sharpest of fangs. Then with all his strength, he grabbed me, forced my head to my shoulder as he leapt for my neck with his mouth.
At that moment, the train jerked on the track and began to slow. It was then that I realized that, apparently, I hadn't been too observant. I happened to glance down towards “Goth Guy’s” left side and saw the most hideous purse made from cheap fabric with a faux tapestry print on it. I’m not sure, but it might have had a Teddy Bear on it, which made everything seem to fall out of focus—mostly because I was in denial that someone could match that bag to any kind of footwear. While my head was spinning, contemplating a mixture of the items on my "TO DO" list for the day and trying to sort out the whole Teddy Bear thing, he gently turned revealing his profile, some out-of-date eyewear, and the fact that he, indeed, was a “she.” I exited the train completely confused. Maybe it's my eyewear that needs some updating.