(I've been lurking for months now, and have enjoyed all your stories very much. I've decided to try my hand at Lorraine's challenge even though I haven't written anything since college. It was a lot of fun.)

When it started out, it was a day, just like any other day. I was sitting on the subway, my head buried in the newspaper and ears full of depeche mode.

I don’t know what made me look up at that particular stop, but all of a sudden there he was, standing in the doorway looking totally lost and totally in control all at the same time. He looked straight at me and walked over to where I sat.

He sat next to me and the air started to shimmer; lack of oxygen will do that to you he said very quietly, you can’t pass out until you help me.

Me, you want me to help, you don’t even know who I am.

Yes I do, you’re one of them, the Lurkers. You encourage the others in their diabolical machinations and do nothing to help. Michael sat dejectedly, it’s too much he said, they make me love her, they make me hurt her, they make her hate me, I’m tortured, shot, kipnapped, and all the while I have to remain polite and have every brown, red, blond hair in place. And while I’m at it, if my pants get any tighter, I’ll be the one passing out from lack of oxygen. What do they want from me he sighed.

All the while the train rumbled on, people got off, people got on. I was vaguely aware that most of the people getting on the train were women. Michael looked up and turned pale, oh no they found me. Sitting in the corner was a woman wearing a flannel nightgown and bunnyslippers. Next to her was a women with a ruler, what could she need that for?

The air was full of the aroma of the very finest junk food. By now the sound of the train had fallen away and the only sound was heavy breathing, food crunching and the woman who was typing so fast on her laptop that her fingers were a blur.

His eyes were drawn back to the bunnyslippers, he was muttering - she knows they drive me wild, I’m helpless against them. Michael dragged his eyes away from slippers and very politely asked if he could at least once have one happy ending. The women all looked at him with the famous blank stare. You’re so beautiful when you suffer, we all said as we started toward him, just then the doors opened and he jumped through them.

You dummy, I thought to myself, why didn’t you write him into handcuffs. Oh well, tomorrow’s another adventure.

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