Subway Screams and Silences

Before you even get on the train, you can always tell who the loud-talkers will be. Through the window. Body language screams.

It’s the person with the tilted chin, angled in the air. Wide eyes, haloed by eyebrows forming a pointed crown. The actual noise comes second, it’s the loud postures and gestures that end up pinning you to the subway seat. The people who throw their limbs around like it’s their living room.

It’s either that, or people far too tired to speak. Sunken, ready to trek home. The whole city sitting on their eyelids. It used to frighten me, how tired people seemed riding home at all hours of the day, but now it’s become comforting, some of the best quiet I can find. The only way to get New York to shut up is to tire it, and even then, there’s still always a chin peeking toward the car ceiling, warning loudly as the subway screeches to a halt at your heels.

Advertisement