While fighting through the throng of passengers on the train, I started panicking. The cramps were so bad I feared I’d never make it in time. Out on the platform, I doubled over, gripping my stomach as I wondered what in the hell I could have eaten that would wreak so much havoc, like my insides were being ripped apart. No one offered to help or glanced my way at all despite the fact that I was clearly in pain. Not that I expected them to. In New York, it’s best not to get involved. Even making eye contact with a stranger can lead to trouble. Holding my stomach, I shuffled along, hobbling up the stairs to the sidewalk. By the time I reached my block, the cramps suddenly stopped. I wiped the sweat from my brow, relieved I hadn’t had an accident on the street. Now that would have been embarrassing, though I’m sure my girlfriend would’ve got a kick out of it. She laughs at all the bad things that happen to me.
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