Read Wander Dust for Free Online Page B

together.
    I spend an hour with the airline’s baggage recovery. The snarky woman behind the counter informs me that my bag’s whereabouts are unknown. In the end, I walk away seething and head off for my next connection.
    After a long, freezing walk to the L train, a single seat remains in the last car. I have to wedge myself into it because the seat is made smaller by the large woman next to me whose heavy arms bulge across the seat’s imaginary line. The train takes off, wheels screeching below us. I lean away from her and push myself against the fingerprint covered, plastic wall on my left.
    The train doors, directly across from me, make me wish I had my coat. Freezing cascades of air assault me like daggers at every stop when commuters enter and exit. I shiver, shoving my bare hands farther up into my long sleeve cardigan. My teeth chatter. Just a few more stops.
    I glance over my shoulder out the window. The city grows larger on the horizon. Gray fog wraps the building tops. To forget my gloomy surroundings, I close my eyes and meditate on thoughts of the Miami weather. Maybe I’ll feel warmer if I pretend hard enough.
    Just as I’m about to relax on my imaginary beach, a grumbling, singsong noise disturbs my dream. I open my eyes in just enough time to see a filthy bum charge through the preceding car’s door. He stumbles and falls with a thud at my feet. Commuters glance over at the man, but they quickly avert their eyes.
    The bum lies on his back and breathes heavily. He laughs as though he’s the only one here, and his throaty singing begins again. A pungent smell of alcohol and garbage reek through his stained clothing, tweaking my nose. I want to pinch my nose to block the stench, but that just seems rude.
    The man rolls over and clumsily hauls his overweight body from the metal floor. That’s when his eyes catch mine. He coughs wretchedly in my direction. I recoil, covering my face, but he holds his gaze on me, taking his time to look me over. The doors open behind him. Freezing air rushes in. Commuters exit swiftly. The bum steadies himself.
    “Wanderin’ without yer coat, are ya?” he asks in an accent I can’t place. He laughs hoarsely and wipes his running nose on his sleeve.
    The bum turns away from me and mumbles something. It sounds like, “Jes like me.” I’m not sure if I hear him correctly through his snot covered words because I can see he is wearing a coat.
    Thankfully, his interest in me is fleeting. This relieves me, and I relax, leaning my head back against the glass. Through a sideways glance, I watch the bum move on. His large body fumbles by annoyed riders. He grabs the car’s poles for support when the train jolts. With unsure footing, he stumbles off into the next car. In the distance, I swear I hear a familiar voice say, “Hel-loo, Frances.”
    The train jolts again. When I look around, I realize I’ve missed my station. “Ahh! Stupid old man!” I mumble as I grind my teeth. After a moment, I let my eyes roll back into my head and my thoughts return to Florida. I can get out at the next station.
    Although I’m not ready to surrender my tropical daydream, I want to be the first to jump out onto the Randolph-Wabash station platform to transfer trains.
    I jump up early to stand at the doors. As they unfold, not only does the bitter cold hit me, but someone rushes past me from behind and jabs their elbow into my lip. The collision sends me flying through the open doors and onto the train’s platform floor. I look to see the direction I know they’ve gone, but only freshly embossed footprints trail away toward the stairs.
    Shocked, I lie in freezing snow for a moment. When I roll over on my back, exiting commuters trudge around me. Not one person meets my gaze or offers to help me up. I’m invisible to them too.
    When the train doors slam shut and the car screeches away, I regain the will to move. Rolling onto my knees, I push myself from the freezing floor with my numb,