Pickles (8/19/10)

It’s nice to have someone to talk to but, unfortunately, not everyone does. I sat near a man on the train this evening who spent the entire ride mumbling to himself. At first I thought he was talking to the woman next to him, but I quickly realized that his slurred speech was directed at an imaginary audience. This man did not reek of alcohol, nor was he dressed in battered clothes. As a matter of fact, he looked like a normal commuter decked out in shorts and clean gym shoes. But beneath that clean-cut exterior lied troubles. Here was a man who, in all likelihood, had no one to talk to. It made me appreciate the time I spend with my friends, my wife, and my family…even if all we do is talk about the rain.

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