I remember him looking at me as if there was no tomorrow. He was easy to recognize, with his black Nicks hat and the grey sweater I got him for Christmas. His lips looked the same way I left them – chopped – and his eyes still shone on his tired-looking face. I used to tell him he worked too much, but he never listened to me.
The L platform started to get packed; the train was about to arrive. Meanwhile, we kept staring at each other. Did we do the right thing?
30 seconds after, I stepped into the carriage that would take me to Brooklyn, keeping my eyes fixed on him. But as the doors closed, his silhouette got lost between the crowd, and with it, so did our memories.
