Over There

"I heard at the office about a car conductor, over in Brooklyn. Two guys wanting to get on the car weren't wearing masks, and the conductor wouldn't let them on." Doris leaned over, smiling, chewing her gum.

"Well I say good for the conductor." Margo adjusted her mask, pulled it tighter against her face.

They were riding the elevated line into Manhattan. Usually, at this time of day, the car would be full of people, but today the rows of wooden benches were empty. It was the war, for one. And now the flu.

"Margo, do you think it's the end of the world?"

"I don't know," Margo said.

The train hit a rough stretch of track and they held onto their hats as it bounced along. Then, suddenly, they were over the river and she could see the skyscrapers and spires of the city, golden in the morning sun.

If it was the end of the world, it would be cruel timing. Humanity, it seemed, was just beginning to hit its stride, find its footing. So many advances were being made.

But then again, an ocean away, a bloody regression.

"Yes, I guess it is the end of the world," Margo decided.

"Do you think you'll go to heaven?"

"No, Doris, I think I'll go to Bloomingdale's."

Doris sat back in her seat, frowning and looking at the city passing outside. They didn't speak the rest of the way. At the train station, Doris asked Margo if they would see each other at the usual spot after work and Margo said of course and then they parted.

Outside the station on Fifth Avenue, the streets were quiet. Big delivery trucks rumbled along periodically. The taxi cabs had all gone. And all of the young men were off overseas or doing something else for the war, and the ones that remained, you always wondered a bit if there was something wrong with them. So now Margo was mostly surrounded by old men, even more than usual.

Yes, it was the end of the world.

But the office building where she worked was still surprisingly busy. After all, people still needed to be persuaded to buy things, especially bonds. The U.S. government was now their largest client.

At the revolving door, an older man, not wearing a mask, smiled and motioned for her to go through. She looked at his face. She'd never seen him before, and she doubted he knew who she was, or ever would, on account of her mask. "No, you first," Margo said, "I insist."

The man frowned. "I beg your pardon," he said, and then he pushed through. Margo sighed, and after a moment, went through herself.

It was a full time job, soothing egos, thanking men for their various kindnesses and chivalry. "Blah, blah, blah," they said, and then you said "Oh, blah, blah, blah? Well blah, blah, blah." And then they laughed and you smiled and they asked you out and you said, "Well, I don't know," then they got that look in their eye.

But that was all gone now, over in Europe. "Tu es mignon. Je te trouve ravissante. Tu veux boire un verre?" Margo reached the bank of elevators and pushed the button. "T'as d'beaux yeux tu sais."

The elevator arrived very quickly, the little bell rang, and Margo got on and began to carefully take off her mask.