Earlier today I'm on the bus, a man in his 40s sits behind me, talking to someone on the phone. He's speaking in a foreign language so I don't understand what he's saying, but I can hear he's crying. People around him are trying not to listen, uncomfortably looking away, out the windows. I know what they're all thinking, just like me: lucky man, he's feeling something.
S calls in the middle of it, I don't answer. Instead I send a text message to Chloe, telling her to dress up for tonight. At least then we can pretend like we're somewhere else.