The Vent

My eyes wandered aimlessly around the grey walls and fellow commuters on the escalator. Music blared from my headphones, and I felt lost in my own world.

I was pulled out by a small, almost missable, yet offensively out of place object. A half-eaten burrito, on the ledge next to the ventilation, high up enough the wall that somebody must have thrown it. Somebody with good aim, too.

Huh. Weird, but what isn't on a subway station?

I ran down the last few steps to catch the train, forgetting the burrito as quickly as I had noticed it.

The next morning, the burrito was still there. I'd assumed it would have been retrieved and thrown out by now, but I supposed it was in a hard-to-reach place.

The third morning, the burrito was gone. Good. Wouldn't want any rats.

The fourth morning, a melting ice cream. What the hell? Was it the same guy throwing food up there? A copycat? Some stupid TikTok challenge? I felt bad for whoever had to clean up this new, sticky mess.

Once again, it took two days for the discarded food to disappear. And on that second day, I witnessed something even stranger.

A man, standing about ten steps below me, was about to throw a pack of gum to the duct. He looked far too old and sensible for TikTok.

"Hey, excuse me! What are you doing?"

I didn't usually consider myself a confrontational person, but seriously? What kind of asshole pulls this shit?

The man turned around, surprised. Then he sighed.

"You made me miss the good angle! Now I'll have to redo it," he shouted back.

"What? No, you can't throw food up there, dude!"

"Well somebody has to, don't they? You do it then. Make sure she likes it!"

This man seemed to me like he was clearly insane. I started looking around, but saw nobody else. Should I call security? When I looked back down, the man was gone, and I was almost at the bottom.

When I stepped on the platform, he was nowhere to be seen, although I was sure no trains had passed by.

Fucking weird. Although for a moment, I did have a strange urge to throw my tupperware of lunch up that wall. I shook it off.

The next day, there was still no food on the ledge. The day after that, the subway was temporarily closed due to a series of suicides.

When the subway reopened, I saw the man desperately chucking cigarettes to the duct. When he saw me, he looked less sensible than last time. His hair stood out at all angles, his eyes were bloodshot and his shirt unbuttoned.

"You! I told you to feed her! Feed her, or she feeds on us."

I looked to the ledge. The cigarettes had landed in a peculiar formation; the pile looked almost like a temple. And I got the sense whichever god it was for was not a kind one.

After that, I started throwing food up there. One person can't carry this burden forever, and it's my turn now. Once, a security guard noticed me. I expected him to stop me, but instead he just gave me a grave nod, like he understood I was doing only what needed to be done.

There have been no more incidents. My greatest fear is that one day, some unstoppable force of the universe will prevent me from coming on time.

So please, if you ever see an unfed vent – make sure to toss something up there.