Written on July 27, 2017 and taken from the notes of my iPhone which is where most of my thoughts live, breathe, and get lost among other random things and food recommendations.
I transfer to the 1 train. Leaving behind the cool air of the 7th Ave Express, I step onto the steamy platform at Chambers Street and wait for the humidity to take over me like a long exchange of pleasantries with someone you used to know. The 1 train stands with doors opened. I run across the platform and through the doors of solidarity. The automated voice yells, “Stand clear of the closing doors, please”. The trains, both traveling uptown, glide next to one another. I see the people I once sat with, maybe even shared a smile with, passing by. The faces blur together. No air circulates my new train car. I watch the empty seat I used to occupy continue on without me as the train car begins to gain speed; the pale blue plastic seat looks cool like the tile floor in my bathroom. The trains split on the tracks and take off through separate tunnels. My mind, a mess of memories and misfortunes, mixes together in the warm static air. Only a few stops until Houston. The hands of time won’t turn back like I wish they would. Instead time jumps forward, minute by minute, reminding me that life is moving quickly and it won’t wait for me to play catch up. I exit the train and spin through the exit turn stop. The light dances on the lip of the top stair, shimmering across wet beads of humidity that drip from AC units. I lift my legs one stair at a time, look to the light and continue on with my day, the best way I know how to these days.