Good Girls

Stand clear of the closing door.

Shuffling of feet.
People stood.
People sat.
Eyes averted, staring into space.
Some looked into the screen of their phones.
Others found solace in the pages of a book.
The grey giant speeded ahead.
Snaking it’s way through.

She shifted her leg.
It mustn’t touch the man she sat next to.
Good girls keep their distance.
She moved again.
The man had white hair.
His jacket camouflage.
His skin red and white.
His bag rested between his legs.

She looked out.
The houses with graffiti on them.
So closer to the loud vehicle.
How do they sleep?
She breathed the air of a crowded compartment.
Of a tired business man.
A woman with a stroller.
A homeless man occupying the seat at the end.
He sits alone.
Others pinching their noses.
They watch from a distance.

A memory surfaced.
The sound of motorcycle stopping.
A hand touching her.
Was I not covered enough?
Good girls come home at night.
Good girls don’t…
Good girls…

The next stop is…
She stood up.


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