Seen on the Purple Line to the Loop at about 6 p.m.
Lana's heavily made-up eyes cannot be torn from her iPhone screen, her manicured thumb sliding up and down the plastic. She chews her gum loudly, and unconsciously shifts as far left as she can to avoid the man sitting next to her. If she weren't doing all of these things, maybe she would notice that her leather boots have started to inch up over her kneecap.
As the train progresses, her boots slowly slither ever higher up her legs. One might be tempted to give them the benefit of the doubt; perhaps they simply want to be a little bit taller, a little bit prouder. But no--Lana's boots are not content even to be thigh-high. When they reach her pelvis the material fuses together into one constricting garment.
Now Lana is trying to have a discussion with Siri:
"Tell me where I can get Indian food."
"I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that?"
"TELL ME WHERE I CAN GET INDIAN FOOD!"
The rattle of the train prevents the phone from picking up her voice. Absorbed as she is, she still does not notice the boots squeeze in her waist and compress her chest. She will finally discover the treacherous footwear when they cover her hands in impromptu gloves, forcing her to stop playing with her phone. But by that time it will be too late. Let's get off the train before that happens. Nobody wants to see Lana swallowed whole.
I must admit, I was a little stuck on ideas today. Hence this strange story. Still no word on MOD2. Driving me crazy. In other news, I've started reading Wuthering Heights. I've never actually read it before. I feel like it's one of those books everyone had to read in high school, except for me because I was in AP English and we read stuff like Italo Calvino and Thomas Pynchon instead. I really like it so far, actually. Victorian novels never fail to surprise me (except for Dickens--I find him rather dull). There's something about the era I quite enjoy.