Unusual Passenger
Dear Diary,
It’s a memory that still lingers vividly in my mind: my first subway ride after relocating to the bustling streets of New York City from the serene shores of Cape Cod at the age of 23. As I boarded an uptown train in Greenwich Village, I couldn’t help but notice an unexpected sight across from me. There, perched on the seat, was a hefty, raw roast beef, expertly tied with white butcher’s string and resting on a sheet of crumpled brown wrapping paper.
To my astonishment, several passengers instinctively steered clear of the meaty oddity, choosing instead to find seats further away. I anticipated someone would voice their concerns or at least make a comment about the peculiar presence of a slab of meat on public transit. However, as each new commuter boarded, they simply cast a fleeting glance at the roast beef before settling into their seats, as if such an occurrence was utterly ordinary.
Eventually, I reached my stop at 42nd Street. As I departed, I couldn’t help but glance back at the roast beef, which continued its journey uptown, undisturbed and unapologetically out of place.
— Jan Worthington
Voices Atop the Stairs
Dear Diary,
“Hurry, dear; we’re waiting!”
The call echoes from atop the stairs, a blend of urgency and impatience, as the familiar sound of a yellow Checker cab honks its horn, a rhythmic plea for the traffic to ease. The air is thick with anticipation, filled with the promise of adventure and the rush of city life.
