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Not finished, not close to finished, more like…just started and haven’t continued…but hopefully posting this will prod me in the right direction.
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Even after stepping into the cool space of the subway train, the heat stuck to my skin. Fans waving furiously in a desparate attempt to alleviate the feverish feeling only seemed to prevent the coolness from providing relief. A delicate balance between the fire and ice, but an uncomfortable one.
The closer to Ginza the train got, the more crowded it became. I could feel the coolness being overwhelmed by the heat of bodies jostled by the train; they bumped each other and into each other, and the stickiness of skin against skin was both nauseous and erotic. But I had boarded at the train’s departure point and had a seat to myself — the prime seat in fact, next to the door, and fifteen minutes in that coolness had chilled the layer of sweat on my forehead. Yet, at each sop, the door would open and a blast of the stifling summer air would remind me of where I had came from and to where I would return.
Fifteen minutes of coolness was all that was needed to alleviate the summer heat, though I could feel the dampness of my under shirt and my boxers plastered onto my ass. The Tokyo summer was in full blast and left no room for wasteful, unnecessary movement. I rose from my seat brushing against sweaty bodies in the train, and I disembarked burshing against sweaty bodies boarding it. Out the door I slipped, onto the platform, and thus began the trudge through a muck of bodies all heading toward the escalators and elevators and staircases. No time to waste, no efficiency lost, for the hot air would not allow it.
I could feel beads of sweat forming on the tip of my nose, behind my ears, on my forehead just below the hairline. The train sucking air from the station as it departed, drew hot air from the dark tunnels behind it creating a gust of hot, suffocating air. I could feel the eyes of my watcher against the side of my head, the right side. He was somewhere in the crowd, hidden in the waves, not circling like a shark for he was undoubtedly caught in the flow as I was, but shadowing me, observing, judging. The roar of the departing train died away as the rumble of an approaching train began.
