There really wasn’t anything special about her. Well, other than her curiosity.
I saw her almost every day on the A train. She often wore that sort of post collegiate uniform of the early 2000s; tight dark blue jeans tucked into calf high leather boots, a gauzy white blouse, various Anthropology accessories.
Yet there was something unique about her smile and the way she looked around the subway car. No phone in her hand, no book, just perusing people.
Admittedly, there was also her tits and her hips and her ass. They were large. Her breasts were almost too large for her frame, though they were often camouflaged by her loose blouses, though occasionally on display with a low cut sweater.
That day it was a tight, light gray, low cut blouse with a wine colored cardigan over it. The deep line of her cleavage extra pronounced because of her rather awkward position between a bespectacled octogenarian and shopping bag laden hausfrau.
It wasn’t the first day I noticed it, but that day she was rather prominently displaying a symbolic pin on her jacket. It was the golden symbol of The Order of Dionysus. A bunch of grapes, resplendent with leaves and tendrils, and in the center a little O and a little D. The letters only really recognisable to someone in the know.