On the C line today: a college-aged guy with shaggy dirty-blond hair that fell over his eyes and hid his face. He leaned forward, his elbow on his thigh, chin on his hand, and he must have fallen asleep because when his phone rang (a kind of nondescript 70s guitar riff) from his pocket beneath his elbow, he jumped. He answered it, crouching low in his seat, hiding his conversation behind his hair.

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