I know this because that is the only explanation for how much cologne he had on.
I felt bad for him.
But not as bad as I felt for myself. Stuck behind him. For twenty minutes. That felt more like forty minutes. In a packed train. With no immediate escape. Or ventilation.
As he got off the train, I whispered softly - just enough to be audible, but not enough so as to appear rude and he'd want to hit me, "Moderation".
