Ouch

There is a small but significant part of my toenail missing. Not nearly as bad as the story - told on the Big Show this morning - about a 6’7” minister who’s legs were cut off so that he might fit into a coffin, but still unpleasant nonetheless.

Heading downstairs and out to the train station, I run into Baruch H. in the lobby. A volunteer EMT, he says good morning and asks how I am (I refrain from mentioning the toenail). Judy R. is pushing a stroller just outside the building.

At the station, I head down to the platform and see Ezra H. at the foot of the steps. He is carrying a backpack and a Banana Republic bag, and is reading on his phone. He seems engrossed, so I don’t say hello and head towards my spot. I take the A to 59th, then switch to the orange line and exit at Rockefeller. On the stairs I hear someone say my name and turn around. It’s Adina L. We chat for a short moment and then I head out onto 47th and make my way towards the bagel shop.