I listen to
the smatterings of a woman next to me, rugged up in layers, one coat on top of
another.
She wears
large dark sunglasses; a beanie pulled down over her eye brows.
Sometimes
she is angry, telling someone they have treated her wrongly.
Other times,
she his happy and breaks out in spurts of hysterical laughter.
Her lucid
mind takes her back and forth, back and forth.
She pulls
out a piece of paper from a trolley which she guards possessively by her side.
She pauses.
There is silence as she observes the blank sheet with complete fascination.
Then she
pipes up again. Louder this time. I'm not sure what she saw but it triggered
something.
She begins
to meticulously tear the paper into small squares, each identical to the next.
The same size. The same shape.
