G Train

I got on an M train, thinking it was an F train, I wasn't paying attention, and rode it out to Williamsburg by mistake. I looked up from the story I was reading about two mathematicians, one of them losing his mind, where am I, I was on a bridge, nothing was familiar, then I realized, Oh, it's the Williamsburg Bridge, I'm not losing my mind, just on the wrong train, going in the wrong direction, way off track. But luckily nothing is unfixable, I got my bearings, got off at the next stop. I could walk to the G train if I knew where it was, but the GPS on my phone wasn't working, it was an old phone, just three years or so, but in phone years that's really old, I couldn't even take a picture with it anymore. I came down the stairs from the station, totally unsure which direction to walk in, so I just chose one way and started walking, and when I passed a guy in a hard hat carrying a plastic bag full of maybe lunch, I asked, Do you know where the G train is? The G train, that's that way, he said, pointing in the opposite direction, so I turned around but didn't want to walk with him, what would we talk about, so I stopped and looked at my phone, or pretended to look at it, and then I started walking in the right direction, a little ways behind the man who'd told me where to go, and when he stopped to talk to another man smoking a cigarette outside a bodega, I passed him, and he said, Just right straight ahead, and I thanked him. So now I'm on the G train, which is the same train I ride with my daughter to and from her tap dance class every Tuesday. When we're coming back these days, it's already dark, and the train goes elevated, and we can look inside people's apartments. I see a living room! my daughter says. I see a kitchen! I say. There's the artist's studio! she says, and then the train goes underground, and we talk about other things, play I Spy or try to notice people, like the guy with the funny mouth, he just walks around always fr