Somebody is singing.
It’s friday night in times square station. It must be close to 2am. The friday night times square drunkards are out. I’ve just come from having a slice and now it’s back home again to pretend to be too busy to socialize. The train won’t be here for a few minutes.
Somebody is singing. She’s a soprano.
I follow her voice halfway down the platform. She’s on the downtown side. I think about crossing over, but I don’t. I can’t see her. I look for a money receptacle of some sort, but there isn’t one. She must be behind a pillar. I imagine that she’s leaning against it with her head back, half tipsy and wishing for the train to take her into Brooklyn. No… she has way too much vocal control to be drunk.
Everyone else is drunk though. They hurl insults at her as she hits her penultimate high note. Fucking drunkards…