Gray, blurry and slightly grim...this is the hardest part of the day, where weariness lays down with reality and breeds the feeling that little remains possible; children hustling the Embarcadero station selling candy for their school or maybe today it's their church or for a sick teacher, the story changes but the little faces are the same...same brass-voiced woman braying 'where you at?!' into your ear for 40 straight minutes, a dude leering at you from one side of the train, the woman across constantly nudging her bags back onto your feet until, unable to restrain yourself any more...you use them as a damned foot rest, and if she didn't MEAN for her eyeglasses to be keeping your heels at a comfortable angle, she could perhaps try keeping them instead beneath her own, more protective feet...
Thanks to the usual One Last Thing, the shuttle just left three minutes ago...57 minutes to the next one, 90 to the next 48 minute ride to the twenty minute trek from the station to home.
It is cold, and gray, and grim, and blurry, at this part of the day. Another day seems impossible.
Fortunately, Tomorrow doesn't care about any of that. It will arrive right on time, and be exactly the same kind of different as today.
And there is hot coffee in the mall.
C'mon. It's on me.
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