Don’t be my friend
by Natalie Robin
I looked up from my book while waiting for the train this morning and saw a man walking the threshold of the 16th and Mission Bart station, eyes on me like a homing device and grinning at me foolishly from one ear to the other. I didn’t care to smile back and refocused down at my book, thinking he would pass, only to find him a moment later sitting directly next to me despite the “benches” in the station being huge concrete slabs that can probably fit 20 people if you dont include who you could stand in the center of it after you seat everyone around. I, previously being the only person occupying a particular bench before the aforementioned gentleman showed up, immediately upon his sitting, threw everything into my bag, got up and walked away. I wanted to turn around and say before walking out of sight: I feel pretty good for 5 hours of sleep but I don’t feel THAT good, dude.