...in the hands of an extremely agitated man on the D train, in the rare car that has plenty of empty seats and nothing horrible-smelling.
He sat near me, then he fidgeted with his coat and tote bag for a long time. Then he gathered them up with a harrumph and took a seat on the other side of the doors. Was it me? You never want it to be you. My only guess was that he was spooked by either my intermittent sniffles (from the cold) or the cut under my eye when I
I definitely want to know more about this book, though. Have you ever asked someone out in public about what he or she was reading? (Was it a disaster?)
