Our Metro. Your Nose.

I noticed her pink lace. One untied. I looked up to check her out. And then I checked out all of them. In the ladies coach, one was reading Garcia, one was texting her crush because the innocent smile was evident. One adorned a full sleeved blouse and looked stressed about the network error unable to reach her hubby back home who had concerns. One was hugging her black College bag and was wanting to doze off. One had a lot of luggage, the other one had a lot of baggage. I started to notice all their noses. Beautiful, broad, stunted, lean, punctuated, long, imperfections here and there but still perfect because the noses were minding their own successful businesses. One nose will be getting an award for giving nose jobs for all the rest of them for creating room and employment. Breathe and let breathe. The gift of sisterhood for diversity and inclusion and for getting down at the appropriate stops and deboarding baggage. "Namma metro" translates to "Our metro". Our noses are with ourselves. Your nose mister needs to see this woman get down from the driver's seat while another woman takes over. I don't feel empowered strangely. Because she has to go home and probably prepare Anna rasam. I'm not sure mister. I May be wrong. But I'm not wrong about giving nose jobs to everyone today and getting one myself from the lady who got down from the driver's seat. I'm sure that lemon rice and curd rice that our kids prepare eventually will be post operative care. I wish you, yes you a nose and a job, you voldemort, wait till I curse you with a hold-a-wart. Ugh. Nose less, job less but we need you. Because crucio!