#f;emma

  Emma looked up from her phone and down the train tunnel. The light was faint, far away, but she saw it, and it wouldn’t be long until her train was here. She slipped her phone into her back pocket, and sure enough by the time she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the wind from the train was hitting her. Her skinny jeans and ankle boot heels weren’t affected, but her white high collared shirt rustled slightly. Her main problem when riding the train was the effect the wind had on her hair. She put her hand on her head, holding her black beret in place, and scowled a bit as the wind blew her long hair all around her face. She’d learned by now to keep a brush in her bag, so she’d fix it later. The train came to a stop and the doors opened, people exiting as she a few other people tried to push their way through to get on.

 As soon as the people cleared she headed toward her seat, looking down to watch her step. Her favorite seat, the best seat on the train. She sat there every morning and every afternoon, seeing as how most people that ode the train with her at the same time had been doing so long enough to know that she always sat there. She looked up and stopped, lurching a bit as the train began to move. Someone was in her seat. Someone, someone she’d never seen before, some guy was in her seat. She scowled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and took the seat across from him, putting her bag in the spot next to her so no one would sit next to her.