It’s dim; the sun hasn’t quite risen above the buildings yet. So the morning, along with a couple of fluorescents, casts a gray glow to inside of the train. The vehicle is quite empty, with few to no people standing to block each other’s view of another. The cloth handles hang limp from the steel bars: one curve strong and locked around the bar, while the other end pretty much shredded into threads, the white foam inside yellow like excess lard.
(writing practice inspired by unphotographable.com)