No. 7

The stale air hits me as I enter the subway car. Oppressive, yet strangely comforting, the uncirculated air is the same temperature, the same kind of festering heat as my quiet exhalations. The doors close behind me and we slowly trek through those underground tunnels. I can feel the dirt, home to many creatures, pressing down on my shoulders. Commuter’s breath sits on my skin, tangles in my hair. Our parallel lives are bound by a single train experience. At last I arrive at my destination, desperately seeking street level. As the wind whips around my ankles, I slowly walk into the darkness.