She's in all beige, looking soft in the subway lights. Her short hair is highlighted and matches her suit. At first glace, she seems peaceful. But a look closer and her expression is twisted. She looks like she's in pain, not physical but emotional.
I wonder what is in her life. She looks as though she could be devorced, maybe with a son of college are. Perhaps loans trouble her, or, if I'm correct about the divorce, it's that which occupies her mind. She has slender fingers wrapped around a tote bag from Sobey's. Her lunch perhaps.
I'm staring at her from the corner of my eye and feel as though she could be an aunt or maybe a stepmom. As we stop at Museum Station, her eyes flash open, staring back at me. She glides through the open subway doors before I can even realize it. Traces of her pained look linger where she sat, then they are gone.
I feel slightly haunted.