She picks up her electric guitar, begins strumming the offbeats. Stops. Waits. Starts again, just before people getting off walk by.
'Bout a thing
Is gonna be alright"
When the stream subsides, she stops, looks around, puts the guitar in its stand, and reclaims her lonely seat on the bench--not even noticing I'm inside the train. And I'm still listening.
The doors close, and I'm lurched away. But her voice stays in my head.