I had made a huge mistake, slipping into the subway car just before the door closed. It took a second or two for me to realize my predicament, the sour smell of the car became overwhelming. I grimly held my breath until the next stop when I ducked out and ran to the next car. The relief of escaping that smell made me smile as I hung onto the rail.

As usual, I glanced around the car, seeing a mass of humanity. Young, old, pretty, not so pretty. I found, as I often did, a pairing that I could try to figure out. The older punk rocker type with a little girl, cute as could be, sitting next to him chatting excitedly. The family carrying lots of bags across the way. The tourists trying to read the map, Italian I think, by their accents.

Then there was a girl sitting below where I stood. She was blonde with her hair tied up, pretty but a bit older than myself. If I had to guess, just out of college. I was a senior in high school so she was a hundred years older than me, or so it felt.

Playing with the ring on her right hand, she pulled it away, revealing a tattoo underneath. Two wavy lines crossing each other. The sight shocked me, I’d seen that image before. She kept playing with the ring, and then letting it slide back to cover the tattoo.