Truth and Beauty 1-6

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Out on the street the sun shone brightly. Jack blinked and squinted, crashing into a lamp post and leaning against it to consider his bearings. Yes, there was the Goat and Compasses behind him, the cab stand at the corner, and beside it the familiar green-and-white globe of the subway. He felt his coin purse in his pocket - no, not enough for a cab. But I do have my farecard, so I can take the tube. That should get me there in time. He stood up, and concentrating on his feet, propelled himself through the mid-day crowd, managed not to topple down the stairs into the subway, and waved his farecard at the turnstile just as a growing rumble announced the imminent arrival of a train.

On the platform a particularly strong jolt broke through his whiskey-fog. Someone shouted at him, and he discovered a crumpled figure on the ground in front of him.

“Well don’t sit there on the ground, then,” Jack said, “if you don’t want to be trampled.” The train entered the station with its usual shrieking roar, drowning out whatever the man might have said in reply, though the anger and rudeness were clear enough. “Fuck you,” Jack replied, his attention on the train to see where the doors would come to a halt.

The train stopped, its doors opened, and several people exited. Jack and several other people boarded, but the man on the ground was still collecting his bags when the door chime sounded, and before he could collect them all the doors hissed shut. On the platform the man stood up, saw that the doors had already closed and cursed loudly. Several people turned around but Jack, trying to brace himself for the jolt as the train started, paid no attention.

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