She looks up from her book. There is no one around. Unnerving? A bit. Fascinating? Maybe. She glances at her wrist watch. Stopped working. Great. She stands up. How long has she actually been on this one car? She doesn’t know. Ten, maybe twenty minutes? She doesn’t know. Her eyes trace the familiar graffiti lines on the door in front of her. Possibly an hour. She looks through the hazy windows of the car. Black and grey passing, swooshing by. There hasn’t been a stop for awhile now. And now signs of slowing down. She goes back to her seat.
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