My Original Works

The Difference in Class

Don't judge a book by its cover.  

One slouches in a comfortable position as he awaits the next train, tossing a rock every passing minute when he felt the need for a source of entertainment. The small stones would skid across the pavement and teeter over the edge of the platform onto the tracks below. Knowing it to be unwise to go after it, the man would scratch at a crack in the cement beside his bench to create more, praying that his train would arrive soon.

The other sat with their posture straightened and head held high as he scanned the area for people of interest, occasionally spotting people that resembled him and his appearance. He had one leg crossed over the other and a briefcase placed neatly on the ground beside his half of the bench, scrunching his nose in disgust with each person that walked past him without deodorant.

The first man had caught sight of the briefcase and wondered of the possibilities of what was contained within. Was it a nuclear weapon that was broken down into smaller pieces? Was it a case full of money that would be used to settle a business deal with a billionaire? Only the man knew what was contained inside.

The second man furrowed his brows at the gawking man, uneasy with how intent he was to stare at his briefcase. What could a man like him want with a briefcase? It held nothing of interest to him. He should mind his own business!

When the train had finally arrived at the station the two seemed to rise from the bench at the same time; one with excitement and the other with annoyance. As they gathered onto the train and looked through what seemed to be completely full seats, there was only one seat available, and the two knew what had to happen. Straightening his suit and tightening his grip on his briefcase, the second man shoved past the dorky man, shoes pounding on the floor with the powerful steps he took. It didn't take long for the lanky man to catch on, and soon he was trailing after the man he could only describe as "moody".

The suit-wearing man rushed into the seat ignoring the looks he was given as he fixed his tie. There was no doubt that this would be a long train ride, but he refused to give in regardless.

"What are you on the train for?"

The lanky pebble-throwing man was back within his line of vision as he held onto the rail above his head for balance. He seemed genuine enough about his intents, and the snob replied: "I don't have a vehicle. What about you?"

"Me?" He pointed to himself to make sure that he was indeed being talked back to. When he had confirmed that he had been spoken to, he grinned with genuine happiness,

"I'm going to pick up my Lamborghini from the shop; the party last week nearly totaled it."