Niceness

The doors were about to close so I hopped inside, like any other nimble straphanger would do. An MTA employee stood inside and he greeted me with a smile. But it wasn't a nodding, neutral smile. It was the kind that antecedes a conversation.
–I wish it were cooler down here as it is up there, he said as he intercepted me on my way to the very end of the car.
–Yes, indeed, I said, you have a nice day, will ya?
–Thank you, you too.

I walked about 40 feet to the very end of the car and sat down facing the doors that were supposed to open for the next dozen stations. Since I had left my book at the office, my hands searched for the iPod inside my purse and I headed for the tunes.
Two or three stops later I saw the same man walking on the platform. He was looking for me inside the train because our eyes eventually met. He greeted me with a last iconic smile and waved goodbye before the train rolled away.

Niceness made me suspicious today and I don't like that.