watch out for the crazies.

The train is crowded, and at the moment I feel lucky. The man straight  across from me is strange in that way that you can't pinpoint, but leaves you with the feeling that he could lash out. His hair is the weirdest color of blond I can remember seeing- it's a literal yellow, in accidental greasy spikes beneath a baseball cap. He wears sweat pants and marshmallowy sneakers, and a Pulty Homes windbreaker. Maybe that's it- the windbreaker. It's Phoenix, Arizona in September, and the weather has to be over 100 degrees, even after dark. He carries a backpack like a student, although he must be 30 years old.

He moves oddly, too. His jaw hurts- do I see a gold molar? He places his fingers in his mouth and twitches suddenly, three times. He turns and I swear he's staring at me- I look down. A minute later he twitches again, fists balled and jerking his back in three short motions. He stares at me once again and I am grateful for the crowd as I stare down.

Phoenix Police hop on the train at the next stop. Before I can look up, he and the rest of the homeless have scattered. I could swear that we all exhale.