Eavesdropping On The Climate Activist
Fiction Friday
The entrance to the train station is next to a 4-story brick building designed from the 1924 Architecture Magazine. It is a hot day and like any New Yorker, you want to avoid the trains. The steps leading into the station were stained, I assume it was old bubblegum but it could have been bloodstains.
Violence is at every corner in New York. Clutch your pearls, I thought.
It was dark, humid, and hot — I was inside a tropical concrete jungle. I walked fast, mostly due to the fear of a stranger coming and asking me for 50c. You know what happens if you say no? You get punched right in the head, nobody wants that.
At the time, I was reading Visual Intelligence — that book made me notice the small things that I would usually disregard.
To enter the subway, I had to swipe my Metro-card but it was empty. When was the last time I deposited into this card, I thought.
I was quick to approach the MTA worker, Stephanie. She wore her back in style orange vest and a blue bandana that said Mets. I got as closed as I could to the glass and asked for a new $5.50 card, that’s enough for 2 trips.
I went to swipe my card and finally, it got through, -$2.75.
