My commute's been a whole lot more enjoyable since I came across the library. No more scouring the train for a space between bleary-eyed workers in beetle-black suits or counting station platforms, closed-up eyelids and sloping heads. Instead, I saunter on to the carriage with a book, stand with my back against the metal rail, and work through a chapter's worth of Rebus, several pages of Kobo Abe, or a short story and a half by Yasunari Kawabata.
I never once look up before Mejirodai.
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