A Deeply Creepy Moment I Am Not Sure What To Make Of

A pasty, middle-aged man on the subway unabashedly picks his nose in a way that hints at mental illness. I try not to look at him but of course I do. A long, diagonal string of snot clings to his upper lip. He looks back at me and stares straight into my eyes.

“If you want to be my lover,” he starts singing in a high, thin monotone, “you gotta get with my friends.”

I look away.

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