POLLUTING

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It was until the man had accidentally kicked her foot that she noticed his shoes. 

They sat across from each other on a train, and usually she does not pay particular attention to the people around her. It just so happens that he extended his foot a bit too far and bumped into hers, and thought that this whole thing would drop by saying Sorry about that.

It was just a pair of dirty white sneakers, probably ones that all men own for jogging or running errands on weekends. The ends of the shoelaces were ragged and torn, and the front was stained with mud from the afternoon rain. Except there was a drawing of a fish on the tongue of the shoe- a hand-drawn, emerald-colored fish with large eyes, staring right back at her.

She didn't recognize exactly what the drawing was, other than the fact that it felt quite familiar. This curiosity brought her vision from the man's foot upwards to his face, where a middle-aged man's face came into her view. He had slightly curled brown hair and an unshaven face. He held a slight frown and was looking outside the window while muttering some words to himself. She could not comprehend what he was saying.

She began to ponder the image of the fish again. It was one of those moments in which the harder you try to think about something, the more your mind blanks out in space. Fish, green fish, fish guts, the sea, open sea with waves rolling in... she was mesmerized with her own imagination of a beautiful seascape and had completely forgotten about the fish.

Sea, clear waters, swimming fish, gray fish, green fish... Yes, there was a green fish on the man's sneaker that she had seen somewhere before. And there the man sat right across from her. The train was announcing some station's name now that sounded like a blur in her ears. The door's were opening, and the man got up.

She noticed that the seat was damp where the man had sat and a trail of water followed him as he deported the train. Then she realized that not only were his pants damp, but also his shoes, his coat, and his hair. The train was buzzing now as she stared blandly at the man going off at a distance. She could almost see tiny raindrops flying away from the ends of his hair as the wind blew by. He was walking further and further away now, and the train door had closed. As the train embarked its journey, she saw the man turn around to look at her. They made eye contact; he looked at her with some sadness, some love, and something else that she couldn't quite recognize for the train had began racing, and sceneries were blending in (fast-forwarding).

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