I’m waiting for an uptown 6 train at 86th Street. On the downtown side opposite me, two men are inspecting the rubber safety strip that demarcates the edge of the platform. Though dressed differently, both men appear to be the same age, and their matching hair styles and facial features suggest that they’re twins. One of the twins is kneeling down for a closer look, and he keeps touching his left ear then pointing to the safety strip. Did he lose an earring? The two scan the area; one of them has taken out his phone and is shining the flashlight back and forth. Other passengers standing nearby have begun to take notice of the search – in particular, a middle aged man in a wide-brimmed hat, who is following the action with rapt attention. He has a slight grin on his face, and every so often he shakes his head as if to say, ‘Poor sucker.’ This kind of aloof display of Schadenfreude annoys me, it’s something I’ve often witnessed in similar situations in NYC. As the minutes tick by, the twins’ search gets more urgent (no doubt owing to the fact that the next train will inevitably bring a crush of departing passengers and lessen the odds of finding the earring). I hear the rumble of my own train approaching, and, at the last second before it pulls into the station, I see the man in the wide-brimmed hat step forward. ‘There’, I read his lips, and he points to a spot on the platform. I watch the twin who’s lost the earring quickly snatch it up and, as I’m climbing into my train, I see him clap the man with the hat on the back in thanks.