Dancing With The Fat Woman – Chapter 12

Jacob Lawrence Migration series

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Chapter 12

THE SKY WAS AN INKY midnight blue as the bus climbed the hill towards the train platform. The people standing on the platform reminded Carolyn of those jerky black forms in a Jacob Lawrence painting.

It had been only twenty four hours since the last time she’d been here, but everything within those scanty few hours had changed.

She rode the escalator up to the platform intent on nothing more than getting a good seat for the long ride into town. It was getting colder everyday. Maybe this morning, she thought, she’d get a seat away from the doors, so that every time they opened up, she wouldn’t get hit by an icy cold blast of air. But one thing was for certain. She wasn’t going any where near car one. She was thinking car three, this morning. The farther away the better, she thought to herself.

When the escalator was level with the train platform, she hurried forward, laser focusing on car three, for she didn’t fully trust herself not to give in to her desires. Finding the seat she wanted, she settled in for ride.

Jacob Lawrence Migration Series, Continued.

Her heart gave a lurch when she heard the familiar rattle of his motorman’s keys as they danced to his step. This time when the shiny black shoes stepped out of the darkness, she pretended not to notice them. She shifted her weight in her seat and held her James Patterson novel up in front of her face as though she were nearsighted.

After a few minutes, when the shiny black shoes did not move, she lowered the book and looked out the window. He made no attempt at disguising his disappointment nor did he attempt to enter car three. He just stood there with an ugly scowl on his face, and his gaze fixed on her.

How dare he have the nerve to be upset with her? She thought. He was the one who’d been locking lips, in public, with a woman young enough to be his daughter. “Bastard!” she mumbled before raising the book back to her face.

After what seemed forever, the shiny black shoes headed towards car one and Carolyn let out a sigh of relief. Soon, she heard, “DOORS CLOSING. DOORS CLOSING. THIS IS A BLUE LINE TRAIN TO DOWNTOWN AND O’HARE. THIS IS BLUE LINE TRAIN NUMBER TWO O TWO”

Leave Your Lover, By Sam Smith

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By
Eliza Ankum
Author of
OneThreeThirteen
STALKED! By Voices
Ruby Sanders
Flight 404

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