Purposeful, brisk walk clad in crisp white and sturdy work shoes. Seamless mocha skin, a halo of dark hair. She glides to the metro.
Expectant, quiet and still on the brick stair, he waits. Clad in washed out denim, sprouting stubble on a peach of a face wrinkled by life.
She hovers for a moment in front of the stair, gently placing a styrofoam box of food on his lap. "You remembered me again!" he exclaims. "Yes, baby," she says simply, already winging her way home.
Her second shift starts each day on the stair, blessing a man's spirit with a meal and a kind word.
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