Two men stand on a train station platform.  Man One buys a ticket.  Man Two fiddles with an unlit cigarette a short distance down the platform, inside a glass and steel shelter not unlike a bus stop.  Man One, whose hair is almost entirely grayed, finishes buying his ticket and turns to walk down the platform to where he wishes to wait for the train to arrive.  He begins to walk down the length of the platform just as Man Two steps out of the shelter, smoking his now lit cigarette, towards the edge of the platform.  Man One realizes that Man Two's path of movement is perpendicular to his own path.  Man Two, smoking, is oblivious to this.  He stands for just a moment on the edge before turning to walk back towards the shelter.  The platform is broad enough that Man One could easily go around Man Two on either side, but instead he about-faces as the other man turns away from the edge and walks opposite his desired direction.  Both men take approximately the same number of steps, placing Man Two at the entrance to the shelter and Man One back at the ticket machine.  Man One then about-faces again and walks quickly past Man Two before the second man can turn and pace to the edge yet again.  His Metal Gear Solid esque maneuver complete, Man One is well on his way to his desired position further down the platform.  Man Two attains full realization of what has happened upon turning back around and finding the man who was previously walking away from him to his right now walking away to his left.  He makes an unkind face to Man One's back and grumbles something unheard in response to the man's graceful but unsubtle movement.  No communication occurs during the entire encounter, not even eye contact.  It is then hardly an encounter at all, just two men moving about each other, careful not to knock the other out of their fragile orbit around reality.

 However, one of the men is white.  The other is black.  One is well-dressed, wealthy in comparison to his poorly-dressed counterpart.  One looks young for his probable age, the other's creased and worn face makes him look aged beyond his years.

  The nature of Man One's aberrant maneuver must have its source; he clearly wished to avoid Man Two.  Was it because of the other's race?  His wealth?  Or did he just not want to inhale the other man's smoke?  There is no cue, hint, or answer: just a portrait of the everyday convolutions we put ourselves through.