by Tiffany Hsieh
The train draws to a halt in the tunnel. Next stop: who gives? Estimated time of arrival: how long does it take to clean up after a jumper? Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I think about the cleaner who scrubs the tracks. Do they do that? Scrub the tracks. He lives alone and eats soup and crackers for dinner, his late mother’s apron still hanging off the back of a chair. He is fifty-one, ex a high school sweetheart, son a high school dropout. The transit commission pays Rudy minimum wage. That’s his name, I’ve decided. Isn’t that what we all want when it’s our time? Rudy out there with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water. Rudy humming as he scrubs. He sings beautifully and we are washed clean before the next train arrives.
Tiffany Hsieh was born in Taiwan and moved to Canada at the age of fourteen. Her work has appeared in The Los Angeles Review, The Malahat Review, Passages North, The Penn Review, Quarter After Eight, the Best Microfiction Anthology, and others. She has been nominated for Best Small Fictions and Best of the Net. Her micro chapbook Little Red is forthcoming from Quarter Press in 2023. She lives in Kingston, Ontario.
Hawaii Pacific Review 