Project in Progress II

Amidst anonymous elbows, shoulders, arms that seem to belong to no one, he wonders if the proponents of the law of conservation of mass have ever been on a crowded train.

As he fights his way into the middle part of the train, where the crowd of passengers is thinner, he is almost ready to believe space can be occupied by two bodies of mass at the same time. Then out of nowhere, an arm reaching for the handlebars above hits his head. His eyeglasses sliding down his nose, everything transforming into a blur, then a faint crack. Shit.

He stoops down, feeling the floor for his glasses, but there is only a forest of feet and smelly shoes.

"Hey. Is this what you're looking for?"

He feels a woman's soft hands pressing something into his hands--his glasses. "You should be more careful, kid."

He puts back his glasses on, squinting. All of the left lens is a big spider web. Great.

"You should think about having your glasses secured around your neck with some sort of lace. You know that kind grouchy librarians use?"

A woman sitting in one of the train benches stares at her with big droopy eyes. She produces a compact from inside her purse and starts dabbing at her pale, sweaty face. He notices that she was using the wrong side of the compact's foam.

"The librarians I know do not wear glasses, " he replies, trying to keep his balance by holding on to a strap attached to a handlebar.

"The nerds I know are smart," the woman says, closing her compact with a loud click. She then begins attacking her hair with a plastic comb. "And they say thank you when you help them."

He decides not to be alarmed by the woman's lack of humor; he must save his energy for the more important things happening later today.

The train still has not left Ayala Station. More people are trying to get aboard the train, holding the automatic doors from closing. The security guard, blowing his shrill whistle again, orders them to step away from the platform, prompting a fresh batch of curses from the frustrated passengers. The train doors close with a long, relieved beep. The train starts to move.

Then the woman stares at him again, eager to start another conversation. "You know what, kid? You look.. too good-looking for a geek," the woman says, twirling a lock of her faux blonde hair.

He ignores the remark and pretends to be looking intently at a nine-year old kid with a ridiculously big backpack. The backpack's zipper was partly open and he could see blankets and a small pillow inside the bag.

Then the blonde woman says something strange: "God, I hate the MRT. I swear I'm going to get off in Ayala station and take a taxi instead."

to be continued