This one time I was running late to a Yankees game, and by the time I got on the subway, I was drenched in sweat from sprinting through the streets. Naturally the subway car fills up, and a young man decides to share a pole with me. A few seconds later in my periphery, I see him quickly retract his arm and rub it, and I immediately know I’ve sweated on him. He tries to make eye contact with me, but I refuse and stare straight ahead. I try to pretend I’m thinking of something cool, but he just keeps on staring at the side of my face, as he shakes his head and frowns. Finally, at the next stop, I see him get out and move to a different car.
I don’t remember the Yankees game at all.
I don’t remember the Yankees game at all.
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| — | My Memory Bank |
