Fate

David Abramson hated this part of his day.
26 years 4 months and 11 days that he’s been taking the F train into Manhattan every morning. With his drab grey suit and worn expression he fit into the swaying environment. Scratch grafitti, advertisements, white ipod headphones and Mr. Abramson all swaying to the clitter clatter of the tracks in silent commune.
March 14th followed March 13th because that’s what March 14ths are supposed to do. This was the type of stability he relished. And on this March 14th he took his seat under the map of the NYC subway system, his left ear aligned with Coney Island. The train was emptier than usual. His small brown eyes scanned the train slowly, analyzing each of his fellow riders. There was the usual smorgasbord of Russian women, Latino teenagers, Frum businessmen and Asian hipsters. All except for one person sitting directly across the way who looked terribly out of place. He’d never seen someone so big before. The man mustve been at least 6’8 and as broad as an oak tree. Dressed almost completely in black contrasting his slicked back white hair and brilliant, piercing blue eyes. He sat there staring directly at David almost completely blocking the advertising for The Bahamas behind him. Davids eyes would normally start closing after 5 minutes of getting to mentally know his mates but this man would not let him sleep.
Mercifully after 3 stops the giant stood up to duck out of his world into the dark station beyond the opening doors. But just before he stepped out he looked at David and nodded as he handed him his newspaper. David whispered a flustered Thank You and placed it on his lap.
It was a New York Post and the Headlines read Alberto Gonzalez Resigns. He thought that was strange as none of the radio stations reported that in the morning. It was then that his face paled a few shades as his eyes scanned the date March 21,2007. His head jerked around out the window as the train pulled out slowly but his giant was nowhere to be seen. He opened to the next page, his fingers shaking and started reading. Story after article after article..section after section..The Rangers are out of the playoffs The Nets are in..People murdered..fires..accidents yet to happen. He felt his chest tighten as if this huge burden had been placed on his shoulders..should he warn people that will die in 6 days time? What should he do with this information?? Perhaps he shouldn’t be playing with fate..the last thing he wanted was to be the subject of some bloggers science fiction tale of a man that changed the course of the world.
Then he closed his eyes leaned back and laughed, this must be a joke. Some sick prankster with nothing better to do but print fake papers and drop it on harried looking passengers. He folded the paper tight but just before he got off he jotted down next weeks lotto numbers on a small piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket hurriedly, looking around as if the whole world knew his secret.
After exiting the train he placed it into the closest garbage pail and it dropped down onto a bed of rotting food leftovers.
However there was one section that he neglected to read as most of us neglect to. We don’t like to read the obituaries, to remember and think about the strangers that used to inhabit the seats next to us on the train. That is truly a shame for had he glanced at that page he would’ve read the 3rd listing from the bottom

David Abramson, 52
Found slumped over
in his car in the parking lot
of the Lottery Commision
of an apparent heart attack
Leaves a loving wife and
3 children.


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