"IT"

When Simon Shrub remembers today, he will note that it was a day just like any other. When he looked out the window, the sky was no particular color. His neighbors nodded as he said hello just as they always have. The walk to his train was just as cold as it should be for a day in February. He will remember today, not because of anything special about the weather, but because of the events that occurred on his way to work.
Simon owns a teashop and bookstore. He runs it by himself with an ever-evolving staff of twenty-somethings. They begin their careers at the teashop with lofty goals of fortune and fame in New York City and generally leave after moving on to more attainable goals claiming a “new and more fulfilling path.” This is not the case with Simon. Simon is truly pleased with his teashop and bookstore. It allows him to read, to sometimes write, and to enjoy times of quietly observing his patrons. Their behaviors amuse him very much. He will often make up entire life stories about a person and wonder if he is correct.
After leaving his apartment, Simon walked the several blocks to the subway station. He swiped his card, proceeded through the gate, and made his way down the stairs to wait for the train. The train arrived quickly, which pleased Simon. It was especially crowded on today’s train forcing Simon to stand. He made a quick glance about the train for any interesting subjects to study and found none in particular.
It was at this time that he felt it. Could it be? Oh, please not now, he thought. Not on the train. Just ten more minutes and he would have been off the train and on his way to his private office at the teashop and bookstore, but at the moment he was trapped on the train with it. “It” started as a slow rumble in Simon’s stomach. “It” was a cramp that crawled through the lower part of his abdomen like a barbed caterpillar. “It” was gas.
It’s easy to be polite in public under normal circumstances. However, when one has a barbed caterpillar slowly morphing into a thorn bush creating havoc in the stomach, such decencies are easily forfeited in search for relief. Simon glanced left. He peeked right. Just before he was about to make the decision, it was made for him. Did it just happen? It did. Was there a sound? Simon could hardly judge the faces around him through the pleasure he felt at his own relief. Relief gave way to embarrassment and no amount of concentration could keep his cheeks from glowing red. With a face that could not hide shame, he glanced around the train to see if anyone had noticed. Betraying his own secret, he searched the faces of those around him to find that nobody seemed disturbed. He had done it! Simon had gotten away with his offense. But, pride comes before the fall.
He noticed it first in the short sniffle from the elderly woman to his left. Then, again in the crazed, darting eyes of the man just behind him. The jig was up. What the barbed caterpillar lacked in noise it made up for with a new offense. All over the train, silent news was spreading of what Simon had done. Simon’s thoughts spun trying to invent a way to escape the situation as the speaker in the train announced that they were arriving at a station. It was two stops from where Simon wanted to be, but he had no choice. He must escape before the evidence found him out. All around him, an angered mob of rush-hour passengers were investigating a crime and all the evidence pointed to him. The doors of the train opened and with a mousy, “excuse me,” Simon was able to make his way through the door and onto the platform.
Yes, Simon would remember this day. He would remember the terror of having all eyes fixed on him, calling down judgment for his public offense. Now he was safe. Two more stops until he was in his private office, his private bathroom, and then to enjoy his private thoughts.