I get jabbed in the side as I sit down. I look towards him and he stares at his paper with a cocky face. It could be just my imagination. I just ignore it and read my magazine. A few stops later he gets off. Another man sits down and holds his hands in prayer. His throat vibrates a slight white noise like a guitar being plugged into a live amp. He's muttering something but barely audible. I get up as my station is called on on the intercom. I glance over at his ritual until the train slows and the doors open.