Sidewalk, Subway, Sandwich

The sidewalk looked wide last night. I wasn't in a hurry to go home, even though it was already midnight. Even the cars passing by looked relaxed and calm. I thought of getting coffee, but decided to catch the subway home. At the subway platform, I kept looking at the tracks, at their color, at food wrappers and other garbage sitting between them. I don't remember now how many commuters were standing near me. The place was quiet. When the train arrived, I didn't want to sit, but ended up sitting. As always, I picked a couple of points above or near the bench across me to keep looking at, an advertisement, the glass window, or anything, to avoid looking at other passengers. One time in a crowded train, I kept looking at a famous face in an ad, a news anchor. Most of the time though, I read ad captions that sound like proverbs, or sayings. At my stop, I found a well-lighted deli, and ordered a sandwich. Most of the tables there were empty, and thought of eating my order facing the door. But I decided to eat it slowly in my room, in front of my computer, and watched a indie film on DVD from the library. It's one of those stories that try to connect multiple stories together.  This one won a major award on the other side of the pond. Later, I read a short story, and tried to read two more. I think I'll read them again.