Writing in Reverse

Walking through the subway station he looks like any other person.  Blending in with the crowd.  You would never know where he has just come from or that he ever goes there.  When you see him you think of a man who lives in a little house with a front yard and a fence, with his wife and kids.  He seems sad, but you would never know.  He carries a newspaper.  Could he be checking the stock market?  Could he be reading about the most recent charity event in the city?  Where has he just been? The doctors office?  The bar? The world will never know.  He has just come from an apartment.  It is not his summer house or his commuter apartment.  No.  It is a secret apartment of his.  It is a small apartment in an unsuspecting neighborhood.  There are girls living there.  Lots of girls in a small, small space.  Many girls from all over, barely knowing how to speak english.  They work down at the corner of the street at night.  Collecting money to pay him back the debt for being brought to America.  When he leaves the apartment he turns and locks the 3 bolts on the door.  And again he blends in with the world.  You would never know where he has just come from or that he ever goes there.  When you see him, you think of a man who lives in a little house with a front yard and a fence, with his wife and kids.