Ethan blinked, his breath catching. The shape wasn’t trash at all. It was small, fragile, trembling, caught between the rails. A puppy. “God,” he whispered. The rails began to hum underfoot, faint but unmistakable. The early tremor of an approaching train. He looked around wildly. Nobody else had noticed.
The commuters were still in their little bubbles of routine, detached from the world beyond their screens. Ethan’s mind raced. He could jump down, maybe grab it in time. But the train was coming faster now; the hum grew into a vibration he could feel in his shoes. For a heartbeat, he actually pictured it.