She sat on the subway train and watched as people came and people went. The time their lives were shared measured not by minutes or seconds but by stops. The tall blonde woman, clearly of European decent, sharing just 2 stops; while the elderly Latin gentleman sharing her life for the full 15 stops she had been on the 1. So much diversity and yet all these people had one thing in common this day, the 1 train was how they would continue their lives today. She wondered what significance, if any, these strangers had to her. Would they play a part? Would some moment 20 years from now remind her of the pretty little African American girl with the red peacoat and how she sang on the top of her lungs to a song no one but her could hear. Would she have a significance to them? The handsome man behind the sunglasses with whom she shared a shy smile, would he remember her? Had that one small moment brightened the bad day he had been having?
The funny part was, she would never know. The chances of her running into these people again was slim to none. This was Manhattan after all. Thousands upon thousands of nameless faces passed each other daily, no one ever stopping to greet one another or hear someone else’s story. It was sort of sad if she thought about it.

And she did. Often.

The world today lived in a society where the name of the person you shared a smile with mattered as much as the cheeseburger wrapper you threw out on your lunch break.

59th street, Columbus Circle. Her stop.

She looked back at the old man with whom she shared these last 18 stops.

“Have a great day sir!” And he smiled. So did she. And in that moment, those few words, at that station stop, the lives of two strangers were forever changed.

 📷cred: http://www.crainsnewyork.com

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