Ellerey wobbled and swayed as he walked. His ears drooped more than usual, he knew, and sweat pooled where his hat met his gray scalp. The big male felt exhausted, but an age-old aphorism kept him on his feet. At least he could rest on the subway. First fifteen minutes of respite until his station, then one last trudge to his flat. As the elevator doors closed, Ellerey blew a puff of air from his trunk. Almost there.
Neither the platform nor the approaching train cars seemed all that crowded, and Ellerey began to hope that he might get a seat – a forbidden luxury! The doors opened and he filed on, ducking his head primly.
There, an open seat.
Room enough for him even. The aphorism sounded in his head again. Ellerey knew that some would find his presence on the bench unusual, or even unwelcome. But he was so tired. Hoping no one judged him for it, Ellerey started toward the seat.
The only woman occupying the bench made eye contact, then scooted over slightly. Ellerey made a note to watch his elbows and thank her. As he maneuvered his rear end that way, however, two teenage boys in hoodies slid into the open space, laughing hard. Ellerey’s face fell.
“Hey!” said the woman. She glared at the teens. “That was rude! He was about to sit there.” She pointed at Ellerey, who suddenly felt far more self-conscious than he liked.
The boys glanced Ellerey’s way, then looked at the woman with a mix of surprise and scorn.
“What? I don’t see his name on it.”
“I think he’ll be fine holding on with his trunk.”
“Yeah, and he couldn’t have sat here anyway.”
“Oh, really? Are you implying he’s too big?”
Ellerey wished she hadn’t said that, and sucked in his sagging, gray belly. His tail wanted to flick in annoyance, but he kept it in check.
“No, lady, don’t you know anything?”
“Excuse me? Didn’t your mama teach you manners?”
“Didn’t your mama teach you about pachyderms? Everyone knows—”
“Ahem,” Ellerey cleared his throat. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” He made a grand bow, smiling, even though he silently cursed his immoderate ancestors. “Elephants never sit,” he finished, wrapping his trunk around the subway pole.
Oh well, thought Ellerey. Soon enough he’d be home with his oversized, plush couch and ottoman. Appearances were important. His aching feet could wait.