Subway, 4:15pm. Two girls and a guy enter at Rosedale station. They’re dressed like they’ve come right off the pages of a ZARA catalogue. They plant themselves in the doorway of the car.
Guy fusses with his vague military-esque like jacket thing as they speak in vocal sliding tones that resemble The Hills. Or they’re vocally texting each other. Either way, my ears start to puss up.
Girl #1: I hope your shirt comes off tonight. (ahhup yr shirt coms aff tunit).
Guy: This shirt is sooo hard to get off!
Girl #1: I hope your shirt comes off tonight! (said faster)
They laugh. But like a tired, bored laugh. Limp. Like you just told a fart joke to an English Lord. They pause.
Guy: (Looking at his reflection in the window) I wish they had Sophora lighting in here.