Plaid Poetry Thursday #2

Here you have it, another unedited piece by moi! :D
(Again, I have ideas for edits already, just have not yet put them into place.)

Click the "read more" to see the story...

The Ride In

     It was a Saturday. Sid had to take the train into the city. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and yet somehow he managed to muster up a certain amount of anxiousness which always followed him on his travels. Trains are quiet and fast – but they’re dirty.
     He settled into his blue, pleather seat, which, after years of use, had an imprint exactly the size and shape of one’s hind quarters, were that person about twenty pounds heavier than Sid. After deciding that his newspaper wasn’t interesting enough to read, he began to take in his surroundings. There was a narrow aisle, which separated the two rows of seats, each quite similar to the one in which Sid was seated. He could see only the feet of the people sitting on the top floor of the train. Two pairs of flip-flops, a set of grimy white sneakers, and one pair of strappy, crimson pumps. Nothing out of the ordinary.
     Across the aisle, there sat another gentleman, probably in his late fifties. He had a pair of black- no, dark blue slacks on, which were creased exactly down the middle. They were a little too short, and Sid could see the man’s terribly thin ankles. His white, button-up shirt was already stained, probably coffee. The man was reading the paper with a level of concentration that Sid had never before witnessed, his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose like a librarian you might see in the movies. The man glanced up from his reading, catching Sid’s eye. His own eyes darted back to the paper quickly, while Sid uncomfortably shifted his weight so that he might look in another direction.
     Sid stared up, toward the row of shoes. He noticed a pair of black dress shoes, next to the crimson pumps from before. Every once in a while, one red heel would creep its way up over a black dress shoe. It would then find its way back to resting on the metal bar in front of it. The black dress shoe would respond with a playful jab at the ankle to which the crimson heel was attached. This game went back and forth, and after a while, Sid lost interest.
     He turned again. A rather plump woman was in the seat facing Sid’s. The cushion was cracked, but the woman did not seem to notice, or care. She was more concerned with the way her watch was turned on her wrist, or how far her hair had fallen since the last time she checked it, or that scuff on her left shoe. She wasn’t old, but her clothes were outdated. There was a run in her stockings which went from her ankle to somewhere above her knee. Sid did not care to investigate further. The woman tapped her fingers on the seat next to her, but not in an impatient manner. She was just looking for something to do with her hand, since her other one was busy grasping tightly onto her forest green library bag.
     The woman seemed to be in another world entirely. Sid noticed a few faint hairs just above her upper lip, which seemed to be clamped tightly to its lower counterpart. Then, he heard the announcement. “Now approaching Ogilvie.”
      Sid gathered up his things, ready to get off the train.