I’m on the Blue Line, heading downtown to get to Millennium Park. I’m tired — it’s been a long week so far — so I’m standing amongst the other commuters, my shades still on, staring blankly toward the floor. I’m not really focusing on anything at all and I’m sort of just drifting into my brain when I hear:

“They’re legs.”

In an effort to gain understanding on some level for the inexplicable, in lieu of simply writing off the Gun Nuts and 2nd Amendment Monsters and their lust for all things that shoot and kill, it occurred to me that the way I feel must be at least in the same wheelhouse as someone adamantly anti-abortion must feel every time a regulation on abortion rights is struck down.