Two, twenty-something co-workers—a plain, yet handsome, white man, and an Asian woman with good enough English—unexpectedly meet as they board at 96th street. They talk.

On the train, as is the case with most train cars at 7:45 am, silent contemplation of the impending work day, one’s success in life, or unmet hopes and dreams occupies most of those riders not reading or listening to some beat-heavy music. Few people are prepared to handle the full weight of human experience immediately upon waking up, and many appreciate the meditative opportunity and initializing semi-social environment provided by a small box full of people scrutinizing each other without the risk of real interaction. The commute, for some, is an essential ritual.

Apparently, the man was a member of this school of thought, and didn’t mind stating aloud what has been thought countless times:

Darn. All I wanted to do is read my paper, but now I have to be social.