Doors opened; doors closed. People came out; people went inside. Some shoved hard, others said excuse me. No one offered a seat to anyone. Arms hang from straphangers; hands held tight to poles. The heat was of no help. “Sardines, that’s what we are. We are all sardines,” someone said. The subway stopped. Someone with a suitcase had a hard time making her way out. “If you touch my child, I’ll touch you,” a mother told the suitcase carrier. The child was in a stroller. “And if you do touch me, the police will touch you.” The suitcase carrier said something about having to put up with certain people. The subway doors closed behind her.