Passengers were fully distancing themselves, almost shunning this conspicuous item. (It looked fine, actually.)
I broke the ice.
Look, a T-bone.
The couple next to me supposed that someone had dropped it.
Managers special, the man noted. It was 1.03 lbs., $7.99/lb., from Ideal Marketplace.
The couple got up to leave. I had taken an open seat across from the steak, so the row was empty again.
If you want to enjoy that T-bone, the man said, giving a friendly slap on the back as he got off the train, itll be our secret.
At the next stop, a small man in moccasin slippers and no shirt got on. The white tray took up half of the seat next to the door, and he sat on the other half, over the molded seat ridge. Odd.
T-bone, I said, gesturing toward the meat. Full pound.
The man peered to his side. Eventually he became curious, picked up the steak, felt it and then tossed it a seat or two away.
I thought about using the other guys line on him when I left. But I missed my chance. The man in the moccasins exited hastily at 86th Street. He had grabbed the steak. And I never promised him it would be our secret.read more
‘I’m Just So Tired of My Body Failing Me in Different Ways’
