“

A guy and his girlfriend were standing in front of me arguing. All of a sudden he erupted in rage. “There’s two broken windows on this train!” he shouted, then put his fist through the window in front of me. “Now there’s three!” A fat man with an Irish brogue pointed across the platform, saying there was a dead man there. Four cops were standing over a white-sheeted body.

“

“It’s strange,” Sean writes, “every day I find myself wanting to call and talk to you. Then I remember you’re far, far away in another galaxy called New York.”