Black crocheted kippah.
The guy across from me on the train, here in the reserved car, is davening. He holds a big siddur, mouths the words under his breath, with passion. Expertly, the way Israelis do.
He doesn’t have to daven, of course. There are dozens of people on the train, all around him, who aren’t davening. Turning on their laptops, listening to music. Even with the kippah, they might just assume he davened earlier, at home or at shul.
Still, no big deal. He has a ring in his nose, a little silver loop. A heavy silver-and-onyx ring on the middle finger of his left hand, and an ostentatiously chunky men’s watch on his left hand. Another fine silvery ring pierces the cartilage of his left ear.