Something Missing | Fiction
Took the subway this Thursday instead of driving. Wanted to avoid the traffic and nasty weather outside (the day’s snowstorm would’ve blinded me on the road). Got there, and I saw this obnoxiously loud group on my uptown ride on the E train. They got on at Continental Avenue, and were talking in that language/code that I could never decipher. As they looked at the subway map they laughed, they smiled, and they exchanged glances that betrayed some shared knowledge – some inside joke. Filled with paranoia I found myself looking at their teeth, all off colored and stained. Some had gray teeth; one had an odd, dark splotch on his left pre-molar; another one had large spaces between his dirty whites that indicated they were shrinking from rot. I wanted to know what was happening and the scene made me think of you. I thought, “If she were here she could tell me what these guys are saying. She could explain what was happening – why everything seemed so wrong.” You’re not here though, and you can’t tell me anything.