Barcelona 2015, Subway. Traffic Hour. The train is packed. Something between by crotch. First thought, someone’s purse or luggage. No. Turn around. An adult Male, his hand long between my legs, fingers spread out. Grabbing everything he can get a hold of, squeezing. He doesn’t stop as I turn around and look at him. We get off the next stop. There’s no air, no words.
Why didn’t I SCREAM?