Die Writing

On the metro #14

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 12, 2012


You know what, screw the numbers.

Kachunk, kachunk

A young couple going out for the evening. The guy is wearing a tweed sports coat. It is trim and fits him very well. The girl is wearing a camel-colored pea coat that’s too large for her and looks bulky. They spend most of their time holding hands, kissing, and giggling at inaudible jokes.

Hold on. The guy’s hair is cut short and his beard is neatly trimmed. Her hair is an opinionated mass. His nails are long, like a guitar player’s, and accurately groomed. Hers are short, with a hasty and superficial attempt to cover up a nail-grazing habit. The turquoise polish is about half-way gone through attrition of time, and no attempts have been made to revitalize its appearance.

He sits up straight, with his hands clasped in his lap, while she is curled up on her seat next to him, and her hands are either wrapped around his neck or plunging into his hair. His hair, of course, is properly mannered and refuses to appear to be disturbed by this assault.


On the metro #3

Posted in Uncategorized by erdaron on March 6, 2012


Not actually sure of the number. Three sounds like a good one.


​Two men, separated by a few decades of the same job. Both get at the same station in downtown DC. Both are wearing nice suits, and both are obviously comfortable wearing suits. Both are carrying business briefcases and listening to something on earbud headphones. Yet for all their similarities, the two men are in stark contrast.

The younger one is an athletic, perfectly groomed black man. When he goes to the gym, it is because he enjoys staying in great shape. His counterpart is an over-the-hill humpty white guy. If he goes to the gym, it is probably because his doctor ordered him to do so and in any case, it is an excuse to get away from his annoying wife. The former stands with youthful, assured confidence. The latter slouches in a seat in resignation.

The younger man wears a fitted suit in excellent condition. The older man wears a suit that, though perhaps it came off a rack in a good store, is well-traveled and lived-in. One’s earbuds are fashionably white, straight from an Apple commercial. Not a mere accessory, they compliment the man’s chic look. The other’s are a generic black kind that comes with flying coach that adequately perform the function of delivering sound.


A mismatched middle-aged couple. It is very late – may be the last train on a weekend night – and most passengers are in the state of cozy comfort from being tired and slightly drunk. These two are no exception. In fact, the husband has fallen asleep, head on his wife’s shoulder. He is dressed simply, and you get the sense that perhaps his wife had tried to make him look nice, but it’s a lost battle. Whatever you put on him, it will still look like his tradesman work clothes but he will be perfectly comfortable at all times. He is pretty much as he was in his teenage years, just with a bushier mustache and more of a gut.

The woman is quite awake, sitting up, with a look of either loss or disappointment. She is quite attractive, you can tell, though the years have not been kind to her looks. She is a stately mansion in disrepair. You can see where the architect really put his heart into the work, but you can also see where time and reality have taken their toll and chipped the paint. Her outfit is quite nice, but dated and worn. The train rocks and jostles on the tracks, and she holds on to her sleeping husband until it is time to raise him and put him to bed.