I Follow The Crowd

Men in Black suits crane their neck looking for the contact, but I'm pretending to know the mother I'm next to as we make our way down towards the trains. "That outfit looks so good on you today," I chime, as I lock elbows with her non-child-holding arm and walk down the stairs.

"Thanks!?" She says with a quizzical look.

"No, thank you." I say, rushing ahead, out of sight of the men upstairs.

Once down, I hop the railing and an underpaid attendant throws me a contemptuous look. I throw back a "kissy face" and get on the Green Line; it should get me close to their facility. I take a seat and wait for the doors to close. Safe for now... Except...

Shit! Two agents board our train and walk down the aisles looking at passengers. They hold a picture. I think back to the meeting and feel the urge to vomit. How deep is this? How much trouble am I in? Do they know me? As they get closer, I think, Vomit might actually be a decent cover. I start hacking and bystanders scoot away. I arch my back and fall on all fours, facing away from the men. It worked! Sadly, I actually start throwing up on the seat. Greeaaat! Wanting nothing of this, the agents leave our car.

The train takes off.

I sit down next to my puke and people stare in disbelief at me as I smile a shit eating grin back at them. Fuck them! They haven't had my morning. After a few stops, a hobo scuttles on and jerks it in the corner. I thought I was bold with the throw up act. Ever the courageous type, I flash a tit and he smiles a toothless smile, but turns back when he catches a whiff of my vomit. He casts sideways glances at me until my stop. He's probably picturing nailing me over the railing or some shit... I don't mind as long as it doesn't happen for real. I feel gross and he looks gross, but even gross people need a pick me up from time to time.

I depart at Mayfield. I make my way to the surface and get a call.