You know that feeling when something catches your eye? Early in the morning, say 8 a.m.? Before your first black hot coffee, on a Wednesday, when you’re running late, but you don’t particularly care.

Because what matters most is the here and now.

Her strawberry hair flows down not like a single river, but like a river diverging into many streams, some curling into waves. Her rosy cheeks and virgin-snow-like skin seem light and flawless. But then, the train slows, and she steps off at 59th.

When she leaves, she leaves a vacuum in the car. Her absence is present, palpable, felt.