In yet another instance of me attempting to read on the CTA once again, I glared up to quickly glance and study my fellow public transit goers. Many of the characters were mundane to the bone - the predominance was focused nearly entirely on their pocket screens, a handful with engaged in palaver, and very few stared out either into open air for contemplation or some woman's voluptuous figure.
One woman caught my attention almost immediately due to her bug eyes and fear-induced disposition: huddled up like a freezing denizen with one arm firmly attached to a pole. It could have been due to the fact that she was literally crowded in with an influx of goers arriving from the Grand Blue Line stop. But I placed the blame on the tall and bearded bloke in grey right behind her who got a little too familiarly close to her and had one hand above her on the window's zenith edge to support him in case the train conductor's morals became too unconventional or some worthless seeker attempting suicide.
As the train cleared more and more by the time it arrived at Logan Square, she was now huddled into a corner with now only a few bystanders standing idly by, awaiting for their stop. She still had the bug eyes, but they weren't as appealing as they were before, as terrible as that may sound; perhaps the tightness had scarred her permanently and this was her cherry-popping experience among the machine on rails.
After pausing on a page from a book that I loathed reading, I noticed that she was gone. It wasn't like I was going express a pleasantry - one towering figure already had her gears grinding.
I named her Serena, because her atavistic eyes reminded me of a friend from school.
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