Wednesday, January 7, 2015

I Love You, MTA

Katie pulls the red, fur-lined hood of her coat down over her face and turns my direction in her seat, thrusting her face at me. The ear-flaps of my hat, combined with her cave of fur framing her foxy, tired smile, mutes the annoying voices of our fellow passengers, and we lean our foreheads together, closing our eyes, together in a cocoon of dim light.

The gentle rocking of the train, and the warmth and comfort of my person, somehow soothes me, unclenching something tight and anxious right below my ribcage.

"I feel like a kid sleeping in the back of the car while mom and dad drive," I say quietly, and Katie nods.

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