Blood on the Tracks

Sixteen stories below my office window is the elevated rail system known as MetroRail. There is a station there. There is a train in the station. Below the train is a body. Whether she jumped or was, as speculated by the guards, "sucked under" the train is anybody's guess.

Train service has been halted. The news helicopters circled for half an hour or so, making a racket and hoping for a glimpse of body, of blood, for the early news.

The train doors are open. The guards and police and EMTs are wandering up and down the platform. The fire rescue vehicle is long gone. The rubber neckers are not.

Because my window overlooks this scene, the guys from the offices across the hall have been coming in all afternoon, offering opinions, watching for any movement or body bags.

Vultures against the glass, alas.