We exited the metro, passed through the wickets, and headed to the escalator. A younger commuter tried to clip past me to claim a spot ahead on the escalator. I adore my commuting community, but I wasn’t about to let her by. I took my rightful place, glided up the escalator, then rounded the corner to climb the stairs to street level. Our fearless commuter was right behind me, then darted up the stairs and around me. “Go on ahead,” I thought. It seemed her shoe had other ideas. It went flying off her right foot and down the stairs.
Nicole Irizawa grew up in landlocked Ohio and now calls Japan home. Her writing has appeared in Grande Dame Literary and Does It Have Pockets.