I peered over her shoulder, reading hieroglyphics on a card with the color palette of a birthday cake. I make out the words, “we’ll miss you” and “all you’ve done.”
I realize, yet again, we all have our own lives. We go through our own experiences and run the race.
Public transportation always gives me an excuse to people watch.

Written April 13, 2017 around 4 PM on the Bart.