I exit the doors at the sound of the chime, amidst the laughter and too loud voices of the two-eleven train. I watch them shut and I walk forward for a train or two before stopping. I watch the faces as the train picks up speed, slow enough at first for me to see individual expressions.
Then it accelerates until all I can see is occasional streaks of flesh between the metal and plastic. And then it is gone, four red pinpoints disappearing into the tunnel.
I don’t see them until I leave the Metro station and hit the street.
There is a little bit of rain and she’s wearing his jacket. He has her purse slung over one shoulder, the other arm set around her waist to steady her on rain slicked sidewalks.
She walks just on the close edge of uncertainty. His walk is steadier, although not by much. Together, they have a meandering walk that monopolizes the sidewalk, and I slow my pace to maintain my distance. I watch them whisper to each other, familiar, sure that this moment in time is theirs alone.
Why would I destroy that?