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Category: human moments

Human Moments, No. 2

There is a line around the corner for the world’s smallest Dunkin Donuts. The people in it are 9-5ers quietly engaged in their own world of iPhones and Kindles while they wait their turn for lattes and muffins.

Across a narrow side walk, a man with long gray dreadlocks sits on a piece of cardboard, resting his head against the faded blue fire hydrant.  A tall, thick man, dressed in khakis and a butt on down shirt for his day in the office, speaks to him, as an iced coffee sweats in his hand.

“Man,” he says with a deep laugh.  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been as drunk as you are right now.”

The man on the ground smiles and claps his hands in joy.

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Human Moments, No. 1

The waiting room at the   train station is colored somewhere between off-white and taupe, with a east facing window that is letting in weakened sunbeams that streak against the dirty tile floor.  In winter, it is crammed with black-clad commuters that are barely visible under their winter coats, scarves, riding boots and gloves.  Today, the mild summer morning has it is empty, except for a man sitting on one of the wall-side partitioned benches.

I choose my favorite seat, the one in the corner, farthest from the door, because it is a respectable distance from this stranger.  The train is due in another seven minutes, which gives me four minutes to rest here and enjoy the cool air before I need to make my way to the far end of the platform.  I dig through my big leather bag, past my various technologies and wires and pull out my headphones and plug in.

When the analog clock on the wall moves to 7:30, I pack up my things and rise.  The man, who I’ve barely noticed, follows my lead, so when I  open the door on to the tracks, I wait for him so that I can hand him the door.  He takes longer than I expect, so I turn and look back into the room.  For the first time, I see that he has beautiful blue eyes and a fine head of silky white hair brushed back from a pleasantly pink face.  He smiles, his eyes lighting up.

“Thank you!”  He says as he holds his hand out to catch the door.

“My pleasure,” I say.  And mean it.

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