I sat across from a woman on the subway. It's late. Well, not really. It's around quarter to 8. I'm coming from downtown, where I was at a friends house having dinner. Now headed back uptown, I find myself alone on the subway. Granted, I'm not really alone, there are people all around me, but I feel alone, empty, hollow. There is a woman sitting across from me. She is elegantly dressed, obviously coming from work. She has a briefcase on her lap and black polished flats and sheer black tights that cover her legs and feet. A short charcoal grey skirt, a black turtleneck shirt and a grey pinstripe blazer complete her executive air. Her makeup and hair are perfect, and that's where the sophistication ends.
     On top of her briefcase, she has a bag of generic brand of cheese poofs, it's not a name that I recognize. She happily munches on them. It is the manner in which she does it that caught my attention in the first place.
     Daintily breaking a poof apart with her fingers, she lightly pushes on piece into her mouth, which perfectly forms an O. The piece leaves no trace of electric orange residue on her dark face. It fit perfectly in her mouth, and she munches loudly, the whole time keeping her mouth shut. Once finished with the first half, she pops the second half into her mouth and repeats the whole process.
     Her hand disappears into the bag to retrieve a new victim, and reappears just as quickly. I watch her for a few minutes, transfixed by the preciseness of her actions. She finishes the bag, daintily licks each of her fingers and sighs contentedly. My mind wanders as I turn away out of boredom. She once again receives my full attention by removing a brand new bag of cheese poofs from her briefcase. The excruciatingly annoyingly perfect way of eating the cheese poofs begins once again. Her munching fills the silent subway car.
     I give a defeated sigh and turn to the window, realizing I was about to miss my stop. I grab my bag and squeeze through the closing doors. I hurry up the stairs and out into the street above. It's relatively quiet--for 96th and Broadway.
     However I find my ears ringing, the crunching now absent. Laughing, I put on my headphones to fill the silence that the munching executive has left.