Michael posted it. I chew on it.
“The older I grow, the more I listen to people who don’t talk much.” Germain G. Glidden.
Like a needle stuck in a rut, it churns.
The older I grow…The older I grow…The older I grow.
It’s Monday, an unexpected break, with two cancellations. I mosey cross-town to catch an early afternoon train.
The hallways in Grand Central, teeming in rush hour, stand empty, resting. The board flashes Track 106, departing in 30 minutes. 30 minutes. 30 minutes. 30 minutes.
The stomach growls. I circle the snack bar. Once. And then twice. And then back again. Snickers Bars. Doritos. Mixed Nuts. M&Ms. Papers. Magazines. Sodas chilling. An oversize bag of Jalapeno SkinnyPop. Bingo. I grab the bag and a Kit-Kat Bar. The tattooed counter man lifts his head from the NY Post, “Bag for this?”
I step into the last car, it’s dimly lit. [Read more…]