the herd just looked on

Friday on the subway I almost broke my arm off at the shoulder. The subway train was cattle car full of humans, each with entire worlds of their own, We were pressed into each other, sweating, smelling each other’s breath.

“The better way”, the transit commission boasts.

There was a medical emergency at Rosedale, and the train sat between stations. An announcement came over the loud speaker, thanking us for our patience and letting us know they would keep us posted. The mass of us sighed in collective impatience. I wondered if it was a jumper. Minutes later the train started again, inching along the underground tunnels, only picking up speed at a point on the track where there is a sharp downhill turn. They always seem to pick up speed here. My guess is it's a tedious job and the driver uses this as payback.

So we came around the corner too quickly, and the force threw us to the right. I tried to maintain my hold on the bar above my head but the weight of the others was too much. My arm gave out at the shoulder. I fell into the people sitting down next to me. The train began to slow for the next stop and we all worked to regain our footing.

“I am never taking the fucking subway again!” I seethed aloud, before I had time stop myself, which was a stupid thing to say. How else would I get home that evening?

The herd just looked at me, blank expressions leaving no proof of their worlds.