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Weekly Contest #168
I see her, a girl about my age staring out the window of the crowded, loud and pee stenched new york subway cart. Shes sitting…as still as water and her eyes looked like they were at the end of a staring contest with her own reflection just— about—to crack. She had a mask on but for some reason I felt her pain and began to shed a tear. Because I know that stare. The one that never ends even when you start off looking at the people on the platform to now into the pitch black tunnel and all you see is yourself. Which shocks you a little for so...
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