Hands

Kind of a random post. Today I was on a trolley (it seems I'm always on one, how sad is that? I'm like one of those old crazy ladies who just rides the subway all day and talks to any clueless fool who sits next to them). Anyways, today's trolley was extremely cramped, and I was holding on to one of the metal poles,which many other people were holding onto too. So many hands. I then saw one with cracked old lines, skin worn away from cold winters and hard physical labor. Another was smooth rich brown, painted with turquoise, that caught the light and glimmered. Another was extremely pale, with smooth edges and large knuckles. Looking through the window that caught my reflection, it was almost impossible to tell which hand belonged to whom. I could've looked been the fashion-diva with the painted nails. I could've been the one with the cracked old hands. I just thought it was strange, and it caught my attention for some strange reason.