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….