this morning #1925.

this morning, he caught the subway near the beginning of the line. way uptown. full suitcase of clothes in tow. tucked into a corner seat & settled in for the hour ride out to the edge of the city. stared out the window in a fog as the city streamed by. lost in thought. running through scenarios. trying to picture what awaited him at the end of the line. mom’s place. a refuge he fled to whenever dad’s apartment started to feel too on edge. a place he’d call home for as long as possible. two weeks was the norm. in time, the air there would get too heavy to bear. when it did, he’d pack up his suitcase. split without saying bye, hoping to avoid a fight. get back on the train. ride it all the way back uptown. start the cycle all over again.