Scenes

A Short Scene #1: WRITING ON THE CEILING

“It may have been different”… she pauses and looks down.

Then she tilts her head up, raising her brow to the roof, “but he said we would have driven each other mad…” again pause.

And then lowering her head once more, “but I already annoy my husband, so…”

silence replaces her voice.

A Short Scene #2: NIGHT-SKIN

The night was immodest, revealing it’s blackened, navy blue skies & skin. Only a lone, weak star, like a hidden mole, peeked out, between the scarce and thin cloud patches. And he was lusting, with eyes to the night sky, drawn to it, as if it was promiscuous woman—a comfort when one finds himself sleeping alone for too many nights. He took a drag from his cigarette & puffs out into the air above, concealing, for a only short moment, the lone star.

A Short Scene #3: E-LINE TO D-LINE (“US”)

There was a woman nearly punching the window with her left hand and nearly breaking her phone in half with her tight grip in the other; yelling obscenities into the oversized smartphone for the entire train car to hear. Her vengeful, even violent, voice made me feel dizzy.

There was a woman who dragged her left foot, her stained sweats sagging (nearly falling off), while hanging onto the top railing for balance—she was attempting to hobble down the aisle—she was drunk, I think. As she passed by a parent cradling an infant, the parent dug there nose into their child, and the child gagged. The tide of odor that was sent from her passing body must have swam into the nose of the infant before the parent had any time to conceal the child’s face. I empathized with the baby.

There was a man who was arguing with his wife. It was the quite argument: the argument that is spoken in whisper like tones but none the less puts daggers into the back of both parties. It’s the type of heated debate that burns just as hot as any yelling match but is kept under the rug—only to let a blast of flames after the smoke has filled the room. This is the type of argument that gets brought to the front of mind a few months later to reason one self out of love. I felt sad for the wife.

Most would hate this ride: this headache inducing, body oder emitting, and slight heartbreaking light-rail ride. And yet, for all these grotesque things that filled the train car, I still I find beauty in them, as I still find humanity in them, as I still find the idea of “us” in them, as I take the E line to D line.