Walking through the bowels of Dundas station, early on a Tuesday morning. The man sits, legs crossed, at the edge of the stairs. People pass by. He talks to them. It mostly makes no sense, and they mostly walk by. Ignoring him.
She looks his direction, catches his eye. She smiles. He is a human, a person, after all.
"Ah, she knows what it means to paint herself in black". This pierces through the space as morning commuters rush by.
This sits with her for the rest of the day. It feels like a compliment. But she's not sure why.