in the corner enclave, they stretch out in the darkness. the glow above their brow is misty and their laughter seems impermeable.
“good luck,” they say, as you turn the corner from them, and head out on your own. you’ll need it.
you’re warmed by their kindness and you hope it comes through in your smile and your awkward pauses and the intensity of your gaze, just before you leave the train and glide over others’ feet in pursuit of cupcakes.