Opposite me, an almost complete row of fellow commuters. There was an empty seat in between a Bangladeshi (I think) and a Malay man. The Bangladeshi had really sad eyes, and his light brown shirt was scruffy at best. It just needed to comply with the dressing requirements anyway, not to impress his peers. His slippers look as though they were going to break anytime soon, but not just yet. The Malay man had his legs open quite wide, a sort of disincentive for the passing commuter to grab the seat.
On the far left of the row, you have a man in his black hoodie, comfortably snoozing on his pillow. Head down, eyes tightly shut. A bag pack never seemed so comfortable before, and he was hugging it as though it was his bolster.
Ding! Stesen berikutnya, Subang Jaya. Next station, Subang Jaya.
A Chinese auntie walked in. Her arms were covered in black and grey striped sleeves, the ones that hawker stall aunties use to protect themselves against the fiery heat of the wok.
She looked around, and had her eyes on the seat in between the Bangladeshi and the Malay man. There was a pole in front of that seat, and she stood by it while staring awkwardly at the seat for a good 5 seconds. Then, she walked away to another area of the carriage. At times, she looked back at the seat, and I gave her a few stares. I didn’t like what she did. Few stations later, the boy beside me kept his blue tagliatelle earphones and got up. She spotted it, and sat right next beside me.
I looked straight. The seat was still empty, but you just had to wait for the one right beside me la auntie. The one between two Chinese guys. Left one was sleeping in his work clothes, right one on his way to work in his house clothes (me la, yes I do that because it’s more comfortable).
I stayed still, shifted occasionally to enjoy the view behind me. I turned back, and saw another Malay man grab the seat. The two men made way for him when he did. I’m sure they would have done the same for you la auntie.
I am really sure of that.