Human Nature

Theres a man sitting across from me, looks to be about in his mid twenties. Probably just coming from a frat party, judging by the Greek symbols on his jacket. All he's thinking about is the hot blonde a few rows over. It's all over his disgusting face. The blonde herself was raised off her daddies money, probably never worked a day in her life, or so her Prada shoes tell me. Across from them is a business man coming back from cheating on his wife. In the great scheme of things, these people do play a role, however minuscule, in society; however, to me, they mean nothing. People are boring, they are creatures of habit, and because of this I can read them. Down to the most minute detail. I notice things most people wouldn't, for instance the frat kid has traces of what seems to be cocaine on his fingertips, the rich girl has an abusive father and hides the bruises, and the business man has a gun tucked into his suit. judging by his face he hasn't been sleeping well. He's a nervous wreck. The lines on his face just scream for an easy way out. It's because of this that I sit here with ease just staring out the train window, while the man next to me carries a concealed gun, so sure that he intends to use it on himself way before he chooses to use it one someone else. The thing though, with behavioral studies, for that is what I teach at Harvard, is that although humans are creatures of habit, what a human is and isn't capable of doing can change in an instant. You never really know what will happen until the wild card of life shows its hand. This is what I told the police officers when the train stopped, anyway. It is a shame that I couldn't have seen that coming for, I could've saved myself the trouble of buying new shoes. You see had I foreseen the forthcoming events I could've stopped, not the man with the gun, but the coke infested frat boy from pulling out a knife, and slicing the innocent girl from dimple to dimple, then fittingly ending with a stab in the back. Had I stopped this my shoes would not be soiled by the puddle of blood that just grew larger and larger just as my regret grew. Don't get me wrong, I do feel regret for the poor girl, but moreover, these were my favorite shoes.