Today I walked a 1.5 mile route to the ‘MAX’ tunnel after work.  As I took a left onto Stark from 6th Ave, I saw a man kneeling on the ground, head in hand.  It appeared he was crying.  I made my way past him as respectfully as possible, looking away to give him privacy.  Not more than 10 feet further I caught the eye of a woman, weeping in the window of a coffee shop.  As  it does this time of year, the sky gently rained its own tears as I walked on…

As I approached 10th, an elderly man with a cane barreled toward me, his lips moving.  In that moment we passed one another I heard him say, “My father worked for P.T. Barnum…”

Midway through my train ride home, I noticed a ragged, graying man exchanging pleasantries with an invisible amigo. Every now and then, he paused to take a sip from his Starbucks cup.  It crossed my mind that….his lips were moving, but I wasn’t sure  if he was actually making any sound….

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