a looking

On the morning train to work, and it is really pretty skies again, all purple and bruised lips and sleepy, or grey like rain, and Yellowcard is playing:

"All I can think about is you and me driving with a Saves The Day record on."

Just remembering, that this is not a moment for looking forward, but looking around. Noticing the guy with his knees pressed together, tripping over himself. The pretty girl somewhere between her hair, her headphones. The old angry man of stature, but with stories creased to his cheeks, imagining that one smile would be so hearty.

The story sits alongside you, the world gleaning your smile.