#longwalk

I took the subway to Brooklyn, and I almost fell. The snow stuck to people's shoes and melted onto the warm floors of these underground tunnels. That liquid was mixed and emulsified into a slick mush, coating the entire subway.

The traction of my thrifted boots failed me; they've been worn down to small ridges. Every turn, I slid from one end of the car to the other until I could finally sit down.

All around me, I see orange seats with scratched surfaces, random streaks, someone begging to be remembered, and declarations of love.

I wonder if Alvin and Nicole are together right now, as I sit on this train slipping and sliding around. Are they holding each other? Keeping one another warm? Did they get married? Are they still teenagers? Maybe they no longer know each other, maybe Alvin saw Nicole through the window of some cafe on a first date with some guy. Would he cry? Or would he pause for a moment and go on with his day?

Beside me sits this guy, he's my friend, and I love talking to him, but we sit in silence. His scarf tangles with the strap of his bag, creating a contrast of flowing liquid and restrictive military gear. Art and function.

We are kind of like that, my friend and I. We went to watch the same movie and came out with completely different thoughts, yet the same rating. I loved the art, and he hated the film's functionality, or lack thereof.

The air is tainted with smoke from cars, from buildings, and from our own mouths, but there is beauty in that. The smell of the city probably feels like home to some. Like the cats that sprawl around the streets of New York, this is probably all they've ever known.