Subway birth

As I step off the train, the first thing I notice is the pale urine yellow. It mumbles caution as I pass.

My thoughts move to the stairs before I near them. It's necessary to align one's movements with those of others to optimize subterranean escape. I dance about the black gum chessboard - a knight - because my heels cannot afford one step forward at a time. City strollers are tough love.

I don't look back, of course, because she won't see me. I am the minority. A non-existent life form in her eyes. That is, until smiles set in. I wink at the child, transfixed upon my passing. She doesn't know I'm the minority. She only knows I'm different. I'm the possible turning point. Maybe the beginning?

The wind now finds it's way through the damp chamber and I'm sensing evening lamps and cigarettes. Someone always lights up on the stairs. The anticipation triggers the senses which in turn triggers the logic of wind disturbance avoidance. Or maybe it's just cool to walk up stairs with a cigarette.

Two quick jumps, puddle, 3 strides past the drips and out into the world. A fully clothed adult birthed from an earthen womb.