Don't Take The Subway

I took the subway home from the beach.
The first person I had sat next to was a twelve year-old boy with a comic book.
“Whatcha readin’?” I asked.
“Spiderman.” He was preoccupied with the storyline. I glanced at the page, where a top-heavy Mary-Jane, and shirtless Peter Parker seemed to pop-out at me. Enough to make a person feel dirty. I thought, and felt guilty enough to move next to an old woman.
She had a shopbag on her lap. I swear I saw it move.
“What’s that?” I asked apprehensively as it moved for the umpteenth time.
“Shh,” she smiled, as she opened it just wide enough for me to see inside.
“A pigeon?” I wrinkled my nose. She nodded. Okay, time to move. I moved a few seats down, and a mother with a baby got on and sat next to me. The baby was having some stomach problems, but her mother insisted on feeding her soda. “There, there.” Cooed the mother, whilst the baby threw up everywhere.
I had decided to take the subway on the way back from the beach. Why I’d ever do that?

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