Late

A Short Story


By: Russell Morgan

He was running late. Or was about to be if the train didn’t get moving again. He concentrated on the scratchy announcement but couldn’t make out the reason. A sick passenger? Wasn’t that code for a jumper? Inconsiderate.

The young man next to him slumped into his seat and checked his phone. A woman searched the contents of her large purse until she found a bent piece of chewing gum. Behind him, he could hear the uneven snoring of a tired commuter.

He crossed his arm around his briefcase, the one his wife had given him for their anniversary. That was the last one they had ever celebrated.