Irene Han ____________________________________ Train Ride A beginning is also an end. An end is also a beginning. On the F, the woman sitting across from me is wearing heavy sunglasses. 10:30 might still be early for some people. It’s the glare of these metallic cars, harsher than natural sunlight. When she takes them off, she has a black eye. The movie The Long Goodbye comes to mind, how waves of the ocean drown out their voices in Malibu. Nina, brushing her blond hair aside, shows us her bruises: “It doesn’t look like you walked into a door.” On the wall, the last few lines of a poem: And at dawn, waking… The subway blaring, I step out into the light.
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