It’s 4 p.m., not quite rush hour, yet the car is packed.
I miraculously get a seat, so happy because now for the next 20 minutes can blissfully read.
A young mom with a little girl maybe 5, is squished against the doors, so I smile and invite the kid to sit next to me even though we were already like sardines in a can.
The woman on my other side, who has an Upper West Side look as if she worships at the altar of Sylvia Plath with her tweedy clothes from another era, reading her New York Review of Books, sneers at me.
“Come on, she’s little,” I say, not to mention cute as a button in her white tights and Mary Janes looking a bit bewildered holding her mom’s pant leg for safety.
As I read with one hand behind my back like the Venus de Milo, cramped but determined to finish my chapter, I see that my bookmark is from the children’s section of the library I’m privileged to belong to.
I say to the kid, “Do you like to read?”
She doesn’t answer, but her mom does, with a nod.
There’s also a handsome Latino man in front of me I assume is the dad, smiling as I give the little girl the Babar bookmark.
She clutches it like a treasure looking up at me as if I were Santa, while Tweedy next to me shakes her head unable to suppress a smile.
When my stop comes, we all get off, except for the man.
I look over my shoulder, forever the cub reporter and say,”Aren’t you coming too?”
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves.
My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.