My cleaning lady is like Alice from the Brady Bunch. She is a part of the family, and after catching up with her for twenty minutes, I set off for work.
At the station, Newspaper Guy waves to me, then glances at a large group of Orthodox Jewish teens gathered at the metrocard vending machines.
Zippy K. is on the platform. I doubt she remembers me, but last year she came to my place with her cousin and we watched a movie.
The train arrives and I stand at the doors, peering through the glass, scope out the available seats, and decide on the best choice before the doors have opened. Everyone slowly files in, I get my seat, and try to mentally prepare for the day. It dawns on me I might actually arrive on time to work.
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