I made my way into the bowels of the city. The subway station was lined thick with people in their business casual. I walked to my spot, not once taking note of a face. In my peripheral vision I saw two forms leaning in to each other, the girl standing on her tip toes, helpless, her forehead pressed into his chest. I closed my eyes, my back against the wall. The tiles were damp with humidity and it occurred to me how dirty they must be. I pulled away, standing straight.
The air was thick, even at 0800 hrs. A stout black women to my left fanned herself with a newspaper. She looked over at me and rolled her eyes, looking for someone to share in her distaste for the temperature.
But I'm not a part of this. None of it. I'm somewhere else.
You're not going to pin me down, I wanted to tell her.
Instead I looked forward and let my vision blur everything into a putty grey.
Later, on the way home I bought a winter hat. In August. A big cable knit rasta hat and I bought $62.34 cents worth of vitamins to ward off cancer. I almost laughed out loud in line at the pharmacy. All I am going on is a list I printed out from the internet based on [at best] loose evidence, but that's nothing. Where it gets funny is that in this state of mind, I'm buying vitamins.