Hours with nothing to do... but think. Did he think about her during that time? Would she ever know? Wouldshe ever be able to sit at her table again...- while watching in amazementat him stuck up on that dreaded thing and have nothing to do? Would sheever feel that kind of power again?She forced her gaze to the floor as she finished her journey to herchair and sat down. So many little reminders of him all around her.Even the bathroom held a stash of diapering supplies for him in thecabinet. I think it might have helped that I did not look at her. I kept my head high and straight, looking over her head and trying to watch the buildings pass through the window. Like those around me I was maintaining the anonymity of the situation.That afternoon, I assumed my normal position, pole at my back, feet slightly spread for balance, arms relaxed at my sides as the train began it's usual forty minute trip to my stop. At the next stop, I noticed that perfume again. Much more subdued than this. More

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