Enemies Closer

The subway was noisy. People shoved past each other as the news of war spread. Everyone wanted to be home, go to their family, and to be safe. I could compare the chaos to a disturbed ant hill, but nothing was truly disturbed.

Yet.

I felt for the small box in my jacket pocket. My fingers ran over the jagged corner poking through the thin material. The subway train pulled into the station, and still feeling the box, I smiled as I walked on.

A pretty girl, probably around age fifteen, whispered, "Excuse me," as she passed. She smelled of strawberries. Her hair was wrapped in a messy bun. A backpack was slung over her shoulders, and she dropped on the ground before sitting in one of the blue, plastic seats. An elderly woman sat next to her, and the subway train filled up.

I sat down opposite of the pair. Quickly, I slipped the box out of my pocket and placed it in the corner of the seat. I looked up, and the girl was staring at me. I smiled at her, laying on the charm thick.

"They don't make pockets big enough these days. Where are your hands supposed to go?" I joked. It was lame, innocent.

She shook her head. She was a quiet girl, simple. I hated to kill her.

The next stop came quickly. I stood up, leaving the box behind. When I had exited the train, I turned. It began to move again, but I could still see the girl's face as she leaned in to say something to the woman.

I'm sorry.

Shaking my head clear of guilt, I stuffed my hands into my pockets where there was now enough room and made my way up the stairs.

I was only two blocks away from the subway entrance when the screaming began.