Will Wonders Never Cease

She made a beeline for the northwest exit of the train station. Nothing seemed appropriate. The face of people were overly who they were. Like a sudo documentary on how people look in train stations. Not a real documentary, you know. But more of an actually scripted film made to appear like it was a documentary on what people look like in train stations. Like that exactly. This is what she thought as she pass a little girl picking up a cigaret butt and drop it again over and over. Passing the time until the father was done buying a coffee. The sun lit the station through a half oval illumination of the white streets outside. Too bright, she thought. The girl was still playing with the butt when she glanced back. she felt the overwhelming urge to stop her, to slap the filth from her hands. The little girl appeared to repeat the sequence of where she would drop it. Moving counter clockwise between her deliberate locations until she reach the last and the loop would repeat. Across, at the far opposite end a massive woman sat with an old basset hound in far fewer cloths than Julia, or anyone, would have found acceptable. Yet she still seemed hot in the climate controlled bubble. Fanning herself with a copy of In Shape. It never seems to end.