The chirps of electronic crickets bounces off the walls. The chatter of the soon -to-be passengers fills the air. Beeps upon beeps upon beeps sounding off wildly, with no metric pattern as they swipe their metro cards to gain access to the underground. Emergency alarm sounds! Down here, the emergency exit is just another door.
Footsteps pace rapidly down the stairs. They're afraid of getting left behind. No train yet. Toddler escapes his mother, stomping and jumping about. Man slowly drags his feet down the stairs. Keys jingle with every footfall. He coughs and wheezes. Noses sniffling all around. Only silence comes from those on their cell phones.
In the distance the tracks rumble. A light appears down the tunnel. The train. Slowly approaching squeaking and hissing past. Screeches to a stop. More feet pace rapidly down the stairs. The train halts and lets out a breath. Doors glide open. People scurry in through the doors. Chatter. Spanish, English. Purring of stagnant train as it fills with more passengers. They plop down to sit. Music from loud headphones floats through the train. Reggaeton. Doorbell sounds as the conductor speaks through the crackling speakers, "This is Yankee Stadium, 155th street next. Stand clear of the closing doors." Doors shut closed. Train hums and creeks into motion, swopping into darkness.
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