It’s been, like, two weeks! I need to blow. And without thinking, I pull myself from my shorts and start stroking. “Whoa,” he says and stumble... back. “What are you…?”“I don’t,” I start to say, and then I shake my head. No, I’m gonna tell the truth. “Jacking off,” I say to him instead. “You ever do this.”He rocks back on the balls of his feet and says shyly, “Sometimes when I’m really, really upset it makes me feel better. But dad says it’s not a good thing to do, so I try not to.”“I. For five years I have wondered why I do this every day. I glance around the carriage, people reading the newspaper, most with headphones on, some looking blankly out the window as the train speeds into the city. Each one of us becoming one of the millions of ants racing through the warrens of the city. Nameless throngs of people. The one saving grace, sitting directly opposite me, she’s wearing a dark business suit, the skirt is pencil tight, the split shows just enough leg, her nylon clad. More

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