Me. Today. Waiting for the next BART train.

Ugly anorexic shrew in front of me (normally I couldn’t care less how strangers look, but read on).

The train going in a different direction comes. Those who want to take the train board. The rest of us waiting for the next train move up and continue to wait.

The shrew is motionless.

I ask, “Are you…” (waiting for the next train) is what I was going to say but the shrew turns her head away from me as if I were a man apologizing to his wife for having an affair with one of her best friends.

I shrug and move past her. She remains motionless. Pouting at the world.

The next train arrives, and I swear somehow the sheer force of her lunging at the train defies her 75-pound frame. She jostles her bag of bones brusquely past all of us and stomps into the train.

What exactly is this? Indignation at the world that she can’t eat? Bipolar disorder? Just plain old bitchiness?

I was not offended so much as puzzled.