It started as I raced toward the escalator, trying to make it up to the train. They were getting on, only one of them casting a glance backward. Her eyes were deep and wet and blue and soft, the warm sun glinting from their epicenters.

Then the mechanism of things pulled me away; I noted the controverse escalator that went down, and the mocking faces riding it. Too late; the train departed, the a.m. deepened, the distant trees beckoned greenly.