You're listening to an audio book, a book about vampires by Justin Cronin except there are no vampires yet even though you're in the third chapter. There's something about the Polunksy Prison Unit in Texas and you think of the woman there you used to talk to when you had to arrange prison visits and then there is a mention of the Harris County public defender's office and you think to yourself - there is no public defender's office in Houston. And then you think, it's weird that I know that, or maybe it's just strange that you know stuff at all because it reminds you are now a person with his own history, a life with these singular experiences. Maybe this is just another one of those realizations that you sometimes have that you are an adult, a person separate from other people in the world.
Or maybe it's just weird that you are walking down the street in New York listening to an audio book about vampires because you were never the kind of person who thought to yourself, one day I should live in New York. There are lots of those kinds of people, just not you.
Then you think of the woman on the train, wearing a pink shirt and denim capri pants with big clear plastic beads on one wrist and a phone and an mp3 player strapped to the other wrist. Around her neck there was this metallic snake-necklace that wrapped around itself and came halfway down her chest. She was marking her book with a yellow crayon. That was weird too.