taking the chicago blue line

one day I will thank myself for writing this piece, for remembering that my normal shouldn’t be normalized. I wanted to preface this by saying that all events mentioned in this piece have happened, I did not use any metaphors.

we read books on trains
flip a page
a venezuelan migrant taps my shoulder
“chocolate?” he says
I shake my head no
his child from under the wraps of a blanket tied to his father’s back
gazes at me from behind
"papa!" he yells, and points a finger at my book
the father looks stunned, he trudges along
stepping over haphazard legs and bodies

I flip another page
“doors closing”
the faint outline of a woman appears
I glance up from my book
clad in a ratty t-shirt and torn jeans
the woman says
“can you spare some cash for some food god bless you”

I flip another page
she trudges along