Red eyes. That was all I noticed.
Music, buffers everything. Especially the uncomfortable stares.
My friends panic. He is staring at her legs. And she tells me to stand and walk to the other side of the train. It's only natural.
I laugh because there are so many souls like that. I laugh because his soul isn't worth what mine is.
She jinxed it.
Out the corner of my eyes I see Red Eyes walking, no waddling towards the place we stood huddled together. Girls always huddle together. It's a defense mechanism.
I did not know my arm was exposed. My legs certainly, because shorts is the style for summer. But my arm felt a slide of fingers. Slow and what I suppose was to be gentle hand gestures but I felt a thief.
Robbed of my tranquility, I scurry out the train, my friends just at my heel.
"Did you see that?! He's crazy!"
They each rub my arm, to sooth out his trace. And maybe it is comforting for them. Not for me.
Because what the victims say is true, I can still feel his fingers even after I've taken a shower.
