Smug

Sitting here on a slow train, raining outside. Softly, annoyingly. I love trains, you're one of many yet singular with your alonity. People watch me as I'm writing this; "what's he doing? Uni student? What a dick." Fuck ‘em. I do my best to ignore them but their pettiness arouses my curiosity. I picture them when the train crashes, all huddled and screaming. Bleeding, dying. And then there's me, still sitting calmly writing, reporting what I see. No, they don't faze me, they annoy me. Sitting there feeling smug, superior. Superior to what, reconstituted pigs fat?

© 1995, Mosquitobyte