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By Robert Craig

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He leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead. ” She winked and dislodged a joyful tear. Fifteen minutes later Willie stood on the south-bound 135th Street IND platform waiting for the AA train to arrive. The station was crowded with knots of people headed for the beach at Coney Island. Everyone seemed to be in a constant state of motion as they impatiently killed time until the local train arrived. Not Willie. He stood with his back rigid, his legs spaced wide apart, and his hands clasped behind his back.

Lisa was gone! During the infinitesimal moments she’d looked away, something terrible had happened to her daughter. It was her fault! Hers alone! It was then, as the last car of the express vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, that Louise began to scream.

2 Corelli made his way through the holiday crowds in the Fifty-ninth Street station. As he sidestepped a Puerto Rican family with children, radios, umbrellas, and beach chairs in tow, he realized he no longer saw people anymore, only crowds. This depersonalization was more self-defense than callousness. Since Jean’s death he’d shied away from all involvements of any kind. There were no women in his life save an occasional and usually unsatisfactory one-night stand that began in a crowded First Avenue bar and ended with a phone number and a promise to call that was as worthless as a thirty-five-cent subway token.

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