Morning Commute

Hey, he says,

Hey,

you look like my wife.

You Indian?

Hey, he says,

You Indian?

Let me show you a picture of my wife.

Look at that.

Ain’t she gorgeous?

She looks Indian.

But she’s a Puerto Rican.

Ha!

Isn’t that funny.

I was so excited.

Thought I bagged me an Indian

or a Pakistani

and then she tells me

No man, I’m Puerto Rican.

Whatever.

Close enough, right?

She’s still beautiful, right?

Like you.

I gotta say, I think you’re the most beautiful thing

on this train.

I mean, look at you.

Like my wife.

Right?
What’s your name?

What?

Sasha?

Oh, Dasha.

Like with a D.

That’s very exotic.

I like that.

You’re Indian?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Dasha, I’m Anthony.

I gotta tell you, I know I said it

but seriously

you’re the most beautiful thing

on this train.

I’m not bothering you, right?
I mean, you got a book.

I can see that.

I don’t want to be bothering you.

I hate those creeps that bother people on the train.

It’s just when you see a beautiful girl like Dasha here,

you gotta say something.

They gotta know.

Like I tell my wife all the time.

Women need to know.

Right buddy,

hey buddy,

hey buddy, you listening?

Look at this girl.

This girl, Dasha,

that’s her name.

Ain’t that exotic?

Ain’t she gorgeous?

Like my wife, right?

Gorgeous.

Only in America, right buddy? Only in America do we get women like this.

By Ally Malinenko

I live in Brooklyn which is good except when it’s not which is horrid. I’ve been writing for awhile, and have some stuff published and some stuff not. I don’t like when people refer to pets as their children and I can’t resist a handful of cheez-its when offered. I have a burning desire to go to Antarctica, specifically to the South Pole so I can see where Robert Falcon Scott died. I like to read books. I like to write stories and poems. I even wrote some novels. You can read them.

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