The subway car was packed with rush hour commuters, far below the sunlight and color that crept its way into a long, glum winter streak. A lucky few found a seat, but most stood, clinging to the metal bars as the train jerked its way uptown. A man lost his balance and fell into another’s lap. There was no ‘excuse me,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ or, ‘ are you okay?’ No one else even turned their eyes from their folded hands, iPod, or magazine. The cold, biting wind seemed to have stripped away the kindness that day. The garbage on the ground must have cluttered their manners. The same vacant stares and straight-mouthed faces sat side by side, but wore different coats. At the midtown stop, the doors opened, and like a rush of water making its way through a narrow tunnel, the crowd pushed through the sliding doors onto the platform. It was one man’s only chance to do what he’d been thinking about since Union Square. This was his stop, and the girl he’d been watching since he boarded, remained in her