Today on the hill I climb to get to my Friday morning class, there was a small group of people with a microphone, standing and reading the names of all of the service people who have died in our most recent war(s). Everyone walking up and down the hill was on their cellphone, wearing headphones, or zoning out.
One of the largest bus-stop areas in the square is in front of a fancy restaurant and many high-rise banks. The contrast between the warm, smiling white people inside the incredibly clean glass windows, lounging and eating $9 salads, and the freezing cold, bundled-up, multi-racial, worn-down looking group of public transit users, waiting for a bus to wherever we're going. The difference between the faces is plain to see, as if there are some people who walk around everyday with overgrown elephants on their shoulders, and others who don't have to.
Three small children with braided hair and white-out nail polish, sitting on each other's laps on ugly blue bus seats, laughing and pointing at a squat wiener dog being taken for a walk.
The feeling of waiting to find out what my last semester of college will look and feel like, of waiting to sign up for the last classes I'll take as an undergraduate. Incomplete completion!
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