I hadn’t yet looked over but imagined a maniacal grin stretching and bending your mouth into frightening shapes as you looked around at the others on the Skytrain, cowering and covering their ears in protection from whatever bastardized dubstep cross-breed spewed from your iPhone at maximum volume. I imagined you holding it up like a cursed talisman, threatening to poison the souls of all other commuters.
I imagined standing up, confronting you, putting myself in the crosshairs of eternal darkness for the sake of the other riders. I saw myself collapse against an empty seat as you pointed the phone in my direction, my ears bleeding as you approach. Then, the fates smile, the Skytrain rounds a corner too quickly, slamming you against the doors which G-force had opened just enough for you to slip out of. A small mushroom cloud of inconsiderate shadows plumes as you hit the ground. When I finally look over to you someone shouts, “Turn that fucking shit down!”