An older man sat across from me. I stood: the air conditioning only helped when upright beneath it.
The older man wore a midnight blue T-shirt, with the word Certified printed in white lettering above his heart. His silver hair fell to his shoulders and glinted under the artificial lights.
Though I didn't normally instigate conversations with strangers, I felt the impulse.
“May I ask what you're certified in?” My voice cracked, and I realized I was thirsty.
The older man smiled and revealed his crooked front teeth. “Living,” he said. “Living and fucking breathing.”
He chuckled, and the woman beside him joined in. It felt as if the whole train car might be in on the joke.
I reciprocated the smile and leaned back against the train door. The metal was cold, almost painful, against my hot skin.
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Originally published in Pure Slush
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Good, sharp edged, perfect for the N train
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Good one.
Like. It's neatly detailed, and there's something ambiguous about the atmosphere of it - the cracking voice, the feeling that the whole carriage might be in on the joke.
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“Living,” he said. “Living and fucking breathing.”- this is a great moment of dialogue, and it sets up an authentic way for you to bring in the sense of alienation.
Really good. A world of story here in this short scene. Well done. *
love this! read this after coming home from seeing too many people in a single day and reading this gave me back some desire to see and talk to anyone. lots of life energy here and strong, lasting images.
A bizarre and intriguing snapshot. Lots & lots in a small space. *
Very nice in an almost surreal way. *