She seems to be wearing the same colour everyday.
He seems to not have much to say.
And that lady who just got down the train? She's walking a little too fast today.
Maybe she prefers cooking than laundry.
Maybe he's saving for a phone conversation with his mother
later at three.
And that lady? She's meeting her family.
Remember that day we were walking and talking, and mostly of things that didn't make sense? Remember how we
keep recalling like it's the best memory
we've made
and remember this feeling?
They must have a name for it.
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