SINKING SLOWLY INTO THE SEAT I FELT my back curve into a wave of spinal affliction. Fourteen hours ago I’d been across the country in ecstasy, riding the subway and wondering, subconsciously, why I had to leave away to other things.

Now there were these seats, and few frazzled travelers strewn among them in a similar pain. Whether they were coming or going I don’t know, if their passage was at the onset or winding down; they—we—were stuck all the same, with the janitors and the vending machine meals. Life somewhat faded, I went to brush my teeth in the public restroom.

This felt like punishment for leaving, and I recounted the fourteen hours ago that I walked, and we were walking, we were walking! Together we were on the train into the city, cereal-eating and kneading the sleep from our very eyes. We stood together and waited for the subway and when it passed, I saw our reflection in the window, pane after pane, there we were—together!

It made me so…

But the distraction of departure was painful, eyes hit the floor, my messy face was sad and tired. Boston was vertical in the distance for just a short while.

Lonesome.

I said goodbye, I walked away, I didn’t turn around, and wondered, subconsciously, when we’d once again happen upon this together that I loved.