Friday, June 1


3 young boys, riding down from the Bronx, maybe 9 or even 11 years old in blue button up shirts with ties. They passed the sports section of the newspaper back and forth. Glancing at other pieces, but always turning back to the sports. At each stop, as the doors would open and passenger would exchange places, coming and going, the middle boy would lift his head up looking to see which stop it was, nervously awaiting his own so he could pull his friends off and make it to school on time. I wondered who had woken them that morning, rushing them to get dressed, their shirts still wrinkled in some places. I thought of Matt and his friends, riding the train to their school so many years before. I pictured them doing the same thing, passing a newspaper back and forth, filling up on sports news, passing over the world news, looking up at each stop, ensuring they didn't miss their own.

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