005

It is the morning rush. The train is crowded with passengers standing shoulder to shoulder. There is little room to move about. A rugby player in a finely pressed gray suit sings with the sound off. He is rehearsing for what looks to be a chorus recital. his accompanying music is audible only to himself through white earphones. He carefully accentuates each word taking great pains to perfect the movement of his tongue, lips, and jaw. He stands up straight and firm on the floor of the rocking train with shoulders pinned back, feet spread apart, and breathes correctly from his lower abdomen. Beads of sweat trickle down from his sports cut to his freshly shaven face. His confidence is paramount. He is a testament to perfection. To doubt him would be a mistake. However, the other passengers pay no attention other than a brief glance. They have all created their own private space on this public packed train by way of books, cellphones, folded newspapers, headphones, and game machines. The rugby player in a finely pressed gray suit singing with the sound off might appear to be an anomaly, but really he is all the same as everyone else in his self made room of see through walls.