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Platform | Dec 23 2002

It’s two a.m. in the 14th Street subway station. A woman, a blond in a dark coat, leans against a pole and possibly cries. You can’t tell for certain that she cries because she’s facing away from the platform and also because her hair comes down past her shoulders, hiding her face. She has her arms crossed in front of her and appears to be shaking a little, presumably as a result of crying. However because her coat is so thick, it’s hard to tell if she’s definitely shaking. Also it sounds like she’s whimpering, although this too is uncertain.

You pace back and forth along the platform, walking three or four poles past her in each direction. You do this so as to disguise the fact that you’re trying to figure out if she’s crying. Similarly you walk at a consistently slow pace so that it doesn’t seem strange how slowly you walk when you pass her.

It has to be that someone made her cry. There is a man she loves, and he hurt her. She was with him tonight; this is where she just came from. She has nice shoes—black, fashionable—and dark pants which you can only see the bottoms of. You wouldn’t dare tap her on the shoulder and ask in a concerned voice if she’s okay because that would be creepy. She is standing where she’s standing because she wants privacy to cry. If indeed she’s crying. To ask her if she’s okay would be to pose as someone who cares about her, when really you’re just curious. Although in another sense you do care: it’s just an abstract sort of caring.

The W comes. You’re not waiting for the W; you’re waiting for the Q. The W is a new train, and it confuses you. It’s better if you wait for the Q. The woman gets on the W. If you get on the W, you can sit somewhere near her and find out if she’s been crying, because it will be evident in her face. All you know about the W is that it goes to Brooklyn, then turns in the wrong direction. So if you take the W, you’ll have to switch for the Q where it turns, assuming the Q stops there. For this reason it’s better if you just wait for the Q. You get on the W.

That’s not true: You don’t get on the W. You stand on the platform and stare through the train windows as the W goes past. Your hope is that she’s facing your direction and possibly crying or looking like she was just crying or perhaps even looking like she wasn’t—any of these would fine.

But no, you see nothing: a blur of faces.