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.