| | | | | | |
| | |
katherine enos |
 |  |
 The BART train proceeds slowly after I board. It inches forward, then stops again in the tunnel just out of the 16th and Mission Street Station. I'm agitated, have always hated being in that tunnel.
The speakers in the car crackle, the sign of an impending announcement, the inevitable delay. There's been an "accident" at the Civic Center station, the driver calmly intones through the pops and hisses of the speaker. When we get there, we won't be stopping. Half-an-hour later the train exits the BART tunnel, gliding slowly into and through the Civic Center station. On the other side of the platform, there's a large form, a body, covered by a white sheet. We pull into Powell Street. A crowd of impatient commuters rushes into the car. There is nowhere for them to sit. |
| | |  |