14th St.Station

It sounded like storm clouds were caught in the dark tunnel. You see nothing, pitch black. Steel ground to dust now in your nose. Dirt turned to light absorbing darkness.
A small wind began to blow the smell of uptown, through the dusty tube. Like the inside of a syringe the subway pushed billions of piss atoms from 42nd Street which began to push billions of donut atoms from 34th Street. Standing on the 14th street platform I began to smell the steel donuts. “Turn your head, the piss is coming next.”
I said this to Aparna who faced the strengthening breeze with her eyes closed as though she was spraying her face with a sweet mist or acquiring some blissful knowledge from above. “I would hold my breath right about now.” I repeated. It made me laugh but I managed to breath out sharply as the wind and subway car arrived. The large caged fans above us shook. The rumble became a crashing, squealing, screeching agony of metal on metal.

The only ones who can stand it are the deaf teenagers that hang out in the open passageways after school. Dressed in baggy clothes, overstuffed book bags between their legs, they sign to each other animatedly, focusing on each other’s hands and lips. The cacophony vibrating through their bodies add sounds to their signs louder than any human voice.