Beyond the Glass Window

Beyond the glass she just stands there at the entrance to the Astor Place Station on the 6 line. How long as she been standing there? Wasn’t she there when I looked up 10 minutes ago? Has she been standing there the entire time? Is she a beggar? No. Her posture is upright, alert, anticipating something. Her eyes scan around with a purpose. She is a large woman, but also quite tall. She is bundled up with proper clothing, though not “fashionable” compared to the other Manhattanites around her. She carries a messenger bag across her chest. It looks worn, but not shabby. She holds a bright pink shopping bag in her hands. The brand, I do not recognize. The bag is certainly brighter than her hair. A neon pink compared to her apple red dyed hair, which is damp against the sides of her face. The next flood of passengers exit the station. She becomes more alert and begins scanning the crowd of ascending figures. As the crowd thins, she finally spots the person she’s been anticipating among the last trickle. She crosses over to get her friend’s attention. It is the first time I’ve seen her smile during the last few minutes I’ve been observing her. And it’s not just a casual smile. It’s a genuine smile of finally seeing someone she has not seen in a long time. A smile that makes us both forget she’s been waiting diligently for the past 15 minutes out in the cold. Have you ever seen a complete stranger smile? I mean, really watch them smile. It’s so refreshing and relieving in this city full of too many straight faces.