It barely 7 A.M. when I leave my apartment but I've been up for hours thanks to jetlag. I'm heading back to work already and not quite as refreshed as I should be following vacation. The temperature is hot and the air feels humid, particularly after having spent two weeks in what is essentially a desert. There is hardly anyone on the street yet.
I wonder if my metrocard has expired. It hasn't. I'd expect more people on the platform, even at this hour, since the 1 train is not running after the ceiling collapsed at the 181st street station. I see Marissa W. but she is engrossed in something or other so I just walk by.
At my spot I see Estie R. sitting on a bench, with a new, tiny nose ring that looks great on her. She has been away for some time, in Africa and on then on the West Coast, but I don't get to hear much about the trip or what she did there. Instead we spend most of the time discussing a new building on the Upper West Side that she's planning to move in to. She gets off at 125th and I continue on to 59th, completely unprepared to face the day ahead.
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