reckless spontaneity

A fluorescent lit car, empty with the exception of me and a boy and girl my age. I study their faces, full of mirth. Once we reach the next stop, giggling fills the subway. Together they agree that they will ride in between the two bulky cars, clutching onto only a silver handle and unspoken apprehension. I watch, alarmed, as they leave the subway compartment. Something about the dangerous romantics of it all, left me in shock. They talk to each other as if it was a casual day, while I pray that one of their brown haired heads doesn’t disappear into the tracks. Hands smell of metal (or is it blood?) and they laugh, outwardly denying their parents with their reckless spontaneity.