Michael Malone - Weebly

tear at them like a huge, gray wounded elephant, Beanie
was far away. Without her, then, they went to Argyle,
paid their full fares, and entered, for Priss's sake, a
smoker.
"Filthy," snapped Priss.
"People don't seem to care like they used to,"
sighed Tracy, as they shuffled through leaves of trash on
the aisle floor. "Wait. My shoe's stuck in gum."
"We ought to drive to the city, I keep saying," said
Evelyn again.
"I've done it in thirty minutes less than the train, you
know."
Yes, they did know, for they had been flattened
against the backseat, their faces stretched into
Mongolian contours by wind and terror the day Evelyn
had set that record.
"No, this is fine," Priss insisted, as she pried used
Kleenex from her ashtray with a gloved finger. "You sit
over there, Tracy. Put your bag down next to you.
Here. Put Evelyn's coat."
But before they could secure the seat, someone
claimed it.