Two Phones

He has dry cleaning in his lap, his right ankle resting on his left knee, his right knee pointing up. He’s wearing blue and red argyle socks and black dress shoes with two little buckles on each shoe and no laces. The blue of his button down shirt is only a few shades lighter than the blue of his socks and the buttons are white. The cuffs of his shirt play peekaboo with his jacket, sometimes visible, sometimes hidden. His tie is that turquoise, shiny green color of flies. He’s looking down into his phone, white headphones plugged into it. His pants and jacket are the same deep blue and a piece of paper pokes out of his breast pocket almost like a fabric pocket square, but it’s not sitting right.

Light brown or maybe dirty blond hair is in a short cut, styled forward into a soft point over his forehead. His nails are trimmed short and his watch on his left wrist is shiny black and has no visible numbers on its face. He wears glasses with black plastic rims only along the top. A brown leather messenger bag is strapped across his chest. He has two phones – one work, one personal?

His lips move in a small, tight smile at one phone, before he switches to the other, thumbs moving swiftly over the screen. He’s mostly clean shaven, but a very small/light/not bushy mustache shadows his top lip, and there is stubble under his jaw. He looks down the train and I watch him watch others and I wonder if anyone ever notices me watching.

A light sort of pea-green, rubber bracelet is on his right wrist.

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