Explore "Mars is my Destination" by Frank Belknap Long on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There were twenty-five or thirty passengers wedged into the middle / section of the train, all standing in slightly cramped postures and / most of them unsmiling. I knew exactly how they felt. Not being able / to get a seat in an off-hour in the evening can be irritating. But / right at the moment there was no room in my mind for annoyance. A / slow, hard-to-pin-down uneasiness was creeping over me again, as if a / pendulum were swinging back and forth somewhere close to me, ticking / out a warning in rhythm -- and I couldn't shut out the sound of it.
Just my over-strained nerves, of course. How could it have been / anything else? I turned and looked at the man standing next to me. He / was middle-aged, conservatively dressed, and had a square-jawed, rather / handsome face, with a dusting of gray at his temples.