Prove Me Wrong

My breath misted in the yellow lights over the stairs up from the subway. Another puff of mist caught my eye at the top of the stairs, but my second glance proved me wrong. Someone was smoking, a woman thoroughly bundled against the cold, looking straight ahead as she started her descent for a three am train. I slowed as she approached and leaned on the handrail.

"Y'know what's gross?" I said. "Strangers who stop you on the street to criticize you for smoking." I grinned.

"Y'know what else?" She didn't look at me or slow as she spoke. "Men who stop women on the street without consideration for the potential safety implications."

I stopped and watched her disappear into the tunnels. I wanted to tell her I wasn't like those guys, that wasn't me. But that'd only prove me wrong.