Back at the station, nothing looked different. But I did. I started noticing things I used to miss: the slump in a construction worker’s shoulders as he counts coins for coffee; the panic in a teenager’s eyes when the card machine beeps and the line behind him grows impatient; the mother who sets juice on the counter and keeps one hand on a stroller like the world might roll away if she lets go. I don’t hand out five-thousand-dollar miracles. I can’t. But I can soften the moment when a day tries to break someone.Continue reading…
