The You Train

Начало книги

Hey, girl. Yeah, I know; I'm sorry. Just haven't been feeling all that social lately. How are you? That's good, that's good. How's the little mister? Oh, that's hilarious. That boy's a mess. Me? Well, you know.

Hey. Did you know the B train doesn't run at night?

I found out a couple of weekends ago. I was coming home from a date, one of those Fun dot com deals, Friday night at about eleven. Not so fun after all, kind of boring really. Anyway, I was standing there on the platform, might've been 34th Street, and the place was dead empty. I think I saw a homeless dude on the other platform, but that was it. The sign said the train ran weekdays. Right, me too, Monday through Friday, right? No, it means weekdays. After nine o'clock it's like Cinderella after the ball. I know, huh?

So anyway, there I was waiting. An F train came and I ignored it. Doesn't go to my stop. Then a D. Then a V. It was so quiet in there between trains, I could hear my own heart beat. I don't like being in there when it's that empty, sometimes it's not safe, but you know, a cab would've cost thirty dollars and I don't get paid 'til next week. But finally someone comes in, this woman, and she looks at me like I'm crazy and tells me the B doesn't run at night. Like I should've known from that sign. Weekdays. Whatever.

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