There are murmurs on the subway again. People are talking, however I don’t listen. It’s just background noise to me now… Generations have gone before them. I pretend I’ve heard it all.

They have ceased being silent, their fears are on hold, yet no one sits on the empty seat beside me. They all prefer to stand. I am tall and large and tattooed up, and yet my kindness somehow doesn’t shine through.

I heard Peter again this morning, ranting and yelling about some perceived crime against his serenity.

The downtown core hasn’t changed. Beggers and addicts rub shoulders with the elite and they are all headed south on the same train.

I am headed north to a place where I can clean my teeth and smile at the world with hopefully more enthusiasm and less disdain.

No one I know is holding their breath. I think of V often now. She is the happy Murmur in my head.