City Grime
By Caleb Morris
The train slows to a halt near Lincoln and the old, metallic doors squeak open. Only three people get in: a businessman with a tailored suit, a teenage African American girl, and a homeless man.
The businessman prefers to stand. Most of the seats have newspaper lying across them and are stained with a sort of grime only native to cities. His freshly waxed shoes stand inches away from a small Mountain Dew spill while he folds in his umbrella and tightens his scarf.
That’s another thing about this train. The insulation is awful. If you stand close enough to the door you can feel the piercing wind just as if you were standing outside. But at least it is shelter from the rain.
Talking loudly on her cell phone, the teenage girl sits on the seat closest to the door. Judging by her mix of irritation and flattery it must be a boy she is talking to. Probably her boyfriend. She is wearing leopard print leggings with dark brown boots, Uggs actually. Her thick black hair is curly and falls down to the middle of her back. She has a way too small jacket over the top of a tight fitting, hot pink Aeropostale shirt.
The homeless man has a grimy face, mostly covered by scraggly facial hair. His nose appears to have been broken a few too many times and his eyes have had the color sapped out of them and are now a faded gray. He wears a tattered beanie, loose fitting jeans and a coat far too big that probably doubles as his blanket come nighttime. His clothing looks like it may have been picked up out of a dumpster. He uses a cane and limps to the spot farthest toward the back.
There are probably twelve to fifteen other people in the train car and all are careful not to make eye contact with each other. Eyes never wander on the train, they stand transfixed on something. It may be a newspaper, an iPhone, or the outside. Not that the outside is particularly pleasing to look at. There is a certain density about it. Everything is layered with the city grime.
The metallic doors open again and everyone exits at the stop except for the businessman, teenage girl and homeless man. They all stay in place, except for the girl who is starting to move agitatedly in her seat as her conversation with the boy seems to become more intense. The businessman glances over covertly but quickly redirects his attention to an ever-changing point just outside the train. The lights flicker dimly. The train is moving again now and the homeless man stumbles to his feet and approaches the girl. The man asks her if she has any spare money and she waves a hand hurriedly, signaling his dismissal. He asks again, gruffly. This time she looks at him, they meet eyes for a second, and she continues talking on the phone, a bit quieter now. A third time, the man asks her and she stands up and moves to the opposite end of the train now practically whispering.
The businessman is watching all this through the reflection in the train window. He is getting a bit nervous, not wanting to witness a spectacle. His hands start to sweat and he rubs them together anxiously. From the mirror he sees the man hobble towards the girl, pull out a knife, and ask her one last time, “Do you have any spare money?” The girl screams quietly, almost inaudibly as she sees the gleam of the crimson stained knife catch. She starts to cry, drops her phone and says, “I don’t have anything, just this phone and a couple of train passes. Take them!”
He takes the cane and snaps the girl across the knees. She falls down, sobbing now. The assailant picks up the girl’s phone and train passes and stuffs them deep into his coat pocket. The girl lies curled up in a ball, moaning not wanting to say anything to avoid another rap with the cane. The homeless man gets down on one knee and puts his face right over the girl’s upward ear. “I ask you again. Do you have any spare money?”
The businessman has retreated as far back as possible, to the opposite corner of the train, staring at the girl, horrified.
The girl moans, unable to answer. “You answer me girl! What else you got?!”
More moaning, and all at once, the homeless man brings the knife down, slits the girls throat and immediately begins to search the girl. He leaves no spot untouched, searching for anything of value. Finally, in the girl’s breast pocket he finds a twenty dollar bill. Satisfied, he stuffs the bill into his coat pocket and sits down on the seat beside the door.
The train comes to the next stop, near Elm Street. The businessman hurries off, his briefcase forgotten in the back corner. He walks away from the train glancing back at it. The homeless man has gotten off as well and is boarding the next train, heading East, the same way they have just come.
The businessman walks along the sidewalk, hails a taxi, and disappears into the traffic.