Page 218 - Anonymous
P. 218
I SLIDE down in my seat, a few rows
behind her. It's odd how wearing shades
and a cap aren't conspicuous anymore. At
least six people are sporting the same
look. The guy opposite me smiles at me.
I look away, and out of the window of
the train. I am not here to make friends.
Talking to people like him gets you
noticed. Talking to the frazzled mother
with her baby, or the old woman visiting
a friend on the other side of town, won't.
