Gray...

They sat next to each other, commuter twins with their legs crossed, supporting their matching MacBooks, typing away with fervor.  She tried every once in a while to peek over at the other laptop, curious about the words spilling out of her seat-mate’s fingers.  She kept getting glimpses of interesting words like “horrible,” and “crumpled resolutions.” 

What did it mean that she was more interested in this stranger’s writings than her own?  Surely it was just natural curiosity.  They must look funny, sitting next to each other, both with brows furrowed in concentration, both typing, typing, typing…seemingly ignoring each other.  Maybe the other twin would try to peek at her writing, too.  How disappointed she would be.

The day was a gray kind of day.  Half-hearted clouds covered the sky, gray stretched over blue, an empty threat of rain.  The wind had blown wild leaves all over the ground, pushing the landscape further and further toward barren winter.

The girls’ shoes were neon sneakers.  If she wore shoes that vivid, imagine what her writing must be like.  Surely not the shades of gray that were coloring this laptop.

Perhaps it was because she couldn’t quite read the girl’s screen that she wanted to look so badly.  Or was it just to feel connected to another traveler pouring thoughts out onto a keyboard?  Would she be able to gauge her own acumen by comparing two commuters’ random thoughts? 

She couldn’t think of anything else.  Her own thoughts became bland and lifeless, focused only on what the girl next to her could possibly be going on about.  She seemed to have an endless stream of words pouring from her, filling the screen with tantalizing words that were just beyond reach.

The proverbial carrot.  It dangled, teasing, tormenting.  She wished the girl would just get off the train.  Surely she wouldn’t stick it out to the end of the tracks.  She seemed more like a midtown girl than an outer suburbanite. 

Oh!  Success!  The girl suddenly looked up, startled out of her writing reverie.  She lunged for the door, hitting the button to open it insistently, folding her forbidden laptop up as she practically fell out the door.

The train swooshed forward, leaving the unread words at a midtown stop.  Leaving her mind completely unsatisfied, restless.  Her own words were gray.  Gray like the train floor, gray like the sky and the clouds and the stone wall flashing by.  It was a gray kind of day.