I sometimes wonder if anyone notices the girl with the mustard yellow winter headband warming her ears, loaded down with handbag and gym bag and grocery bag, basking in the warmth of the subway platform (which 5 short months ago was unbearable until the doors of the F train opened, blasting the lucky ones with cool air). I wonder if they catch her casting sidelong glances at them as they wait for a train, and if they know that she's already stitched a narrative of their past in sixty seconds, all lost loves and long voyages and small in-between moments held together with twine. I wonder if they've done the same for her.
But most of all, do they notice her reading material? Do they realize it's no longer Sunday?
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