dear subway cashier girl.

it’s been almost a year since i saw you. and i’ve only seen you once. it was a day in early friend and therapist’s words were swimming in my head like comforting fish, and for the first time in a while, i felt happy. my dad stopped for em to grab something to eat before decorating for a dance that a friend of mine was hosting. you were at the register, and i will never forgot your eyes. they were much a deep and sad brown. the kind people could get lost in. and they were without a spark. your wrist had a small typed tattoo that said “i am art.” but i don’t think you believed it. and what i think is strange is that i can’t visit a subway without thinking of you. because when i left your subway, i promised i would never lose my spark. because then i could help girls like you, find yours again.

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