There were moments when I thought you were going to pee your pants. In the midst of your frowning you crossed and uncrossed your legs and fidgeted in the seat as if you were scrambling to duct tape spidering cracks in the dam wall. Your transit ticket fell to the ground in the midst of the shuffling and a Good Samaritan picked it up and handed it back. After a brief, sheepish smile and a mumbled thanks you waited until his back was turned and immediately threw the ticket on the ground under your seat with deftness I’d never seen before. Your face stayed composed, and for a few moments, your body still. It was as if you were a character actor portraying the forgetful old man; the old, gentle soul. The transformation of which was quite impressive, even if you’d put it on just to litter.