She scratched her nose. The movement irritated her newly healing tattoo located on her finger.
Evelyn surveyed the underground train with its ever-changing occupants, Chanel bags next to trash bags stuffed with a conglomeration of items, families crammed next to singles, old fashioned next to high fashion. A swirl of scents, colors, movements.
Five stops to go.
A woman who looked like she’d just walked out of a magazine rushed to another train car just as the doors were closing. Hopefully, the woman had made it.
Evelyn’s nose itched, right near the tip, where a good rub just might do the trick. She tried to wiggle the itch away. Midway through the wiggle, Evelyn relaxed her hands cautious of her tattoo and decided the itch was just in her head. She would ignore it.
The train ground to a stop and the doors eased open, releasing passengers and accepting new ones. The magazine model woman glided in among the new passengers and dropped into the seat across from Evelyn. The woman released a long breath and gazed out the window.
At three stops from Evelyn’s, a man slid into the seat next to magazine model.
“Come on. You’re beautiful.” The man leaned in. “Let’s go on a date.”
Magazine model pursed her pink lips and shook her head while staring hard at the window. The sigh from a moment ago replaced with tenseness.
Evelyn wanted to believe that the odd couple across from her were some type of acquaintance. But she couldn’t be sure. She shifted her eyes towards them, accidentally catching the woman’s eye and so Evelyn winced her commiseration at the man’s pushy behavior.
The itch at the tip of her nose persisted. She wouldn’t scratch it. Must ignore.
The man spoke again. “Just a coffee?”
“No, thank you.” The woman turned her body further from the man.
The train slowed for another stop, and a passenger across the aisle stood up, nodded at the date-desperate man. “Good luck, man.” His voice smooth friendliness and encouragement. They grinned at each other.
“Can I have your number then?” The man returned to his date quest.
She shook her head.
The itch on Evelyn’s nose was too much. She reached up and rubbed her nose with the palm of hand. Right in front of her eyes, the tiny circle with a tale tattoo on the inside of her pointer finger seemed to point at her. An empty speech bubble. A time to speak and a time to be silent…
One more stop.
The man put his arm across the back of the woman’s seat, scooting closer. The woman’s jaw line stood out, but she focused out the window.
As the train squealed to a halt at Evelyn’s stop, she hoped that the woman across from her would exit the train too. She didn’t stir. Evelyn stood and swung out of the train. Her hand slammed into the train’s door, and the pain of the impact made her gasp.
Turning back towards the train, Evelyn glimpsed the woman in the window with the man still pressing her.
The pulsing in her hand slowed. Why hadn’t she stood up for the woman? Evelyn gazed at her tattoo, feeling the accusation of the empty speech bubble.
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