atguz
You look at the person next to you. He's standing too close. The person beside you? She's sneezing and coughing without covering her mouth. And the man in front of you? He's dusting the dandruff off his shirt. You're stuck in the petri dish of germs known as an elevator; inside your head you're cursing.
Pony, not yet galloping, nearly immobile; one day it will run far away, but until then it will remain in a little girl's dream.