Transit

Viola Chen

“Sleepy?” A cunning voice that makes my lids lift.

Look to my left. Brain clocks a man on the metro thing.

Allowing the obverse closure again, I say,

“Well, I was.”

He starts doing a snorting kind of laugh, moves to the

left top corner of my periphery to get a better look.

I get a better look. City stuff meeting the city stuff.

Not the type I expected, but usual enough…

He kicks me.

I fight him

—hour late going on adding a half

 The designation of what my department is.