Bodies squeezed through the train doors as they opened to the central metro station. The day's workers, tired and spent, hurried to claim seats for their journey home. From experience most would go only a stop or two. I was always there until the end of the line.
I found a group of two seats vacant, and sat down in the one nearest the window. Usually that meant I would not be disturbed for most of my journey home. Maybe I would have someone next to me for a stop or two. And often it would be another girl, which I didn't mind so. But this time a man sat down next to me, and spread his legs until they were rubbing up against mine next to him. It had, of course, happened before. But usually then the men would ask for permission to sit next to me, and sit politely in a way to give me the space I needed. This man, perhaps because was a foreigner - and not used to the new customs.
I was definitely annoyed. His entire physical existence dominated mine. He was much taller than me. In fact even when sitting he must have been a head and a half taller than I was, and I started to feel a little trapped between him and the wall. His smell forced itself upon me. Even then I couldn't tell you if it was a bad smell, it was just exhaustingly present. Like when you visit someone else's house and the whole of it smells different to what you are used to. Foreign.
For the first 10 minutes I had leaned away from him, to escape the smell and his domineering over me which annoyed me. I had hoped he would get off at one of the first two stops. Most people did. But he stayed on. Usually in cases like that I would be able to find another available seat, so I wouldn't have to sit next to anyone. But now I was feeling utterly trapped by him here. I didn't want to ask him to move. It would be too awkward, too impolite. But I was annoyed still, that he didn't consider it. After he didn't get off I stopped leaning. It would be no use to sit like that for another almost half an hour. I was a hypocrite for thinking him inconsiderate, because I immediately started snooping on what he was doing on his phone.
He was just scrolling through pictures of girls. All of them, girls. Did he know them? I wasn't sure. Some of them were captioned. Turkish perhaps. Were these family members? Lovers? Suddenly I wondered if he had sat next to me because I was a girl. No. No of course not. I was being stupid. Conceited even. But now that the thought had entered my mind I simply couldn't get it out.
