There’s a rat. The intercom woman speaks: “The next stop is 47th–50th Streets, Rockefeller Center.” The rat is walking in your direction. The train across the platform—other way—is about to leave. “Stand clear of the closing doors, please.” The rat is trotting like a wolf. A loud clattering sound: A suitcase down the stairs? Repairs? The rat doesn’t care. The rat is galloping. The rat is here. The rat bites. Get off my subway platform, human. Your time is over.