THE TROLLEY

Yes, I knew what they were up to but I didn’t much care: my life barren enough in the gray of this city, the damned trolley, every day the stinking crowd. Fewer people–maybe not a bad idea, in the long run.

But it was a baby voice like my daughter’s just learning to speak. I don’t know what she said but I knew she was scared. I didn’t think–just did what any decent father would do.