'Train' by Jenna Brown

Today on the train, I watched an old man have a stroke.

No one pulled the emergency alarm.

I don’t think his wife noticed. She seemed to be concentrating on reading Page 3 of The Sun.

Maybe it was that kind of marriage.

I didn’t stand up. I didn’t walk over. I did nothing.

In fact, the truth is I didn’t even watch. I said I watched. That was a lie. Instead, I turned away.

I saw it start. I saw his head dip low and the muscles in his face jerk. It was fast, and violent. Then I turned away.

I turned away.

Out of embarrassment.  For myself. For my youth, for my inexperience. I said a silent Thank You to the powers of the universe. Thank You. Thank you for not making me old. Not yet.  Please God don’t ever make me grow up and grow old.

I played Bejeweled on my phone. While an old man had a stroke on a busy commuter train.

I don’t deserve pity, and I’m not asking for it either. I’m just asking for your understanding. For your forgiveness? I don’t know.