I'm waiting on the subway platform, reading the newspaper. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something moving on the tracks. Two rats. They are nothing unusual, except that they don't run for cover when the train begins to rumble down the tunnel. They must be young, or stupid.
As the train pulls into the station, the rats are still on the tracks, right next to the rail. From where I stand, I cannot see whether the train hits them. Any sound the impact might have made is lost in the rumble of the wheels, the whistle of the brakes. Perhaps there is blood on the tracks now; I don't know. I get on the train.
Copyright 1993 Edward Gaillard. All rights reserved.