Five, Two

At ten thirty or so I'm on the train, heading back to Brooklyn after dinner with Richard. The lighted display lists stops we won't be making; it claims this is a 2 train but it's actually a 5.

For much of the ride there's seven of us in the car. One older black man in one corner, and a matching one in the opposite corner. Both are sleeping. Almost directly across from me a young, attractive-ish couple sit very close to one another. They're well dressed and I guess from their posture that they've been drinking. Probably at a nice dinner. The man keeps leaning in to the woman, to kiss her, but she keeps him at bay, her eyes always darting to me when he does this.

I try not to look at them and my attention turns to the remaining two people in the car, another couple, I presume, at the other end of the train. I have headphones on and not sure I'd be able to hear what they're saying even if I didn't, but they appear to be fighting. He seems to be yelling at her and she looks predictably upset. He catches me looking and I look away. A minute later, she moves away from him and comes to sit closer to me. I wonder. But I'll never know.

The couples are opposing forces, and I sit between them, the fulcrum. Everything is in balance. I think back over the night that I've had, and the past month, and think that it must all be happening as it's supposed to.

We all get off at Bowling Green to wait for the 4 train, and disperse into different cars once it arrives. The moment passes, as they all do, eventually.