I had been singing aloud to myself, somewhat quietly, but none too surreptitiously.
On the L.
Felt a little conspicuous ’cause that girl was probably noticing.
But not enough.
On the Brooklyn-bound G platform, a determinedly geeky guy in nerd specs and shorts was playing terrific contemporary accordion to enthusiasm and maybe some cash.
While on the Queens-bound side, a small girl, at least minimally adult in years and plugged into at least one earbud, meticulously danced a solitary Latin dance with no embarrassment.
From my perspective, she was dancing in silence, so it was like watching a geographically confused tai-chi. No one else appeared be noticing her as she did not appear to be requesting notice. Those seeking entertainment watched the accordion player across the tracks.
On the G, I returned to my singing. Immediately, I felt a large black guy watching me.
But he seemed to smile a small, approving smile.
He worked for the MTA.