The door slides open when the skytrain stops. A female voice says: “Ow ouch ow.”

Everyone looks up. She’s bright yellow with orange stripes. Everything is reflective. You can’t miss her, even when she’s being quiet. If she’s ever quiet.

Her luggage case rolls and bumps into the skytrain behind her, making almost as much noise as she does. The whole time she’s repeating ow and ouch like some kind of mantra, some kind of om. And maybe it’s an om for an entire demographic if not an entire generation.

A man stands and motions to his seat. She says loudly “Yes please!” He moves to the other side of the train. She yells “thank-you!” He nods yes.

She has a headset on that’s making lots of noise. It’s wrapped around the back of her head while the speakers are pressed firmly against her head. I have no idea how loud it is for her if it’s this loud for me.

She looks across the aisle and sees a man dressed like a painter. She points and says loudly “You’ve got the fun job hey?”

He agrees and adds “Yep, I’ve got the job no one else wants.”

That’s not true, I think, nobody wants to clean up piss and shit and vomit, but sure, painters got it rough.

“If it’s inside, I love it!” She says. “If it’s external jobs, NNNOPE!” She laughs.

He awkwardly nods yes. He’s embarrassed.

The rest of us are entertained.

She says “I painted my place once when I lived in Toronto.”

He smiles and tries not to look around at everyone else having fun.

“The landlord loved it. In fact, when I moved out he wanted me to paint all of his other places. Because he liked it so much. And he paid me for the painting I already did. Yeah. He paid me.”

“That’s good.” The painter says.

“Three times the amount it cost me to do it! Ha!” She laughs loud and long. “Three times! Can you believe that? That’s a lot of money. He woulda paid me that much per place.”

“That’s good money.” The painter agrees.

“I shoulda done it.” She says to herself now.

The painter says “Well, have yourself a good day.” He smiles at her and rushes to the doors.

She looks around for someone else to talk at. I pretend to read my book but I desperately want her to find someone.

Another girl stands up and darts for the exit, she barely makes it. Maybe she didn’t want to be next.

“Whoa!” The glowing lady with the luggage yells. It’s genuine surprise. It’s a joy. She laughs and laughs. She says “That was a close call. She almost got caught. Must be in a rush. Just another manic Monday I guess! Haha. Yeah. Just another manic Monday.”

She hums the song loudly now. I don’t think it’s coming from her speakers, it’s just in her head. She’s probably sitting there wondering why everyone else speaks so quietly all the time.