A resthome coworker (2 of 2): Us.

The other night when me and my one spacey (African-American) coworker were going home, we were paused at a stop, and there was a train pulled up on the opposite side of the platform, and it was packed and in the middle of it there was a (young) (African-American) guy standing in the middle of the car facing away from us, and he had his shirt off and he was looking down and starting to unbuckle his pants, just as our train started pulling away again.

"Did you see that?!", she was like.

"Yeah," I was like, and I told her about the other night when I had seen some guys walking up and down between cars, and one of them had propped open an intercar door behind him with an empty bottle that someone else had to go and reach down and get out so the door would close between the cars, though it didn't stop the train from moving since it was a door between cars, not a door between the car and the platform.

. . .

I was so tired that same night with the shirtless guy because so much had been going on at work, when I got home that night I was taking a plate out of my cupboard and it accidentally knocked a bowl out and it fell in my sink and shattered and a piece of it hit a glass salad bowl that I use a lot, and that cracked and a big piece fell out of it, and there was cheap porcelain and glass everywhere, and I was so tired and yet I had to go and sweep it up right then, since it was everywhere.