Victor Kerlow Dear Diary:
Scene: No. 2 train downtown from 40th to Wall Street, a little before 10 a.m. on a weekday . The car has only a few passengers.
Me: First car, seat by the middle door, head down, reading the paper. My viewpoint of the other passengers is only lower legs and shoes. In the seat on the other side of the door is Black pants/black shoes.
The train pulls into Chambers Street. Black pants/black shoes stands up to exit. The doors open. He stands and turns to the door, and pauses a moment before exiting. A bright blue folded up Post-It note drops to the floor next to him. He exits.
Immediately, in walks Tan pants/brown shoes. He sits where Black pants/ black shoes sat. The doors close and the train moves.
I see Tan pants/brown shoes reach down and pick up the Post-It note. (Now I’m curious, so I look up). Tan pants/brown shoes pauses a moment, then unfolds the note and reads it. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out his wallet and puts the note into the bill compartment. He sits staring straight ahead until we get to Wall Street, where we both exit.
In the last glimpse I had of him, he was heading up Exchange Place at a quick walk.
State secrets being exchanged? Corporate espionage? Arranging a rendezvous? Or my overactive imagination?
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