She is the type of girl who is capable of baking a quiche and forgetting it on the subway.
She baked it and wrapped it, but it was still too hot for her to hold for too long, so she put the tinfoil-covered dish down on the seat while she stood during her morning commute.
The car wasn’t crowded, so she didn’t feel bad taking the space.
She didn’t feel anything at all, actually, until after she had accidentally left the quiche behind, the tinfoil-covered dish still on the seat, when she got off of the train at East Broadway, and the quiche continued, she assumed, into Brooklyn.
