The subway tracks circled the outer rim of the city. Last evening, the subway arrived at 8:08 PM and 39 seconds. The same time as this evening. We use this cart everyday.

The subway cart opened to reveal the usual crowd. A lady in high heels, a dress suit, and a brief case stood holding a handle bar. A few old men in geometric pattern sweaters and jeans sat in the seats labeled for the old and disabled. A mother with her two daughters sat in a row—all three on their phones. They wore their school skirts and uniform dress shirts.

We took a seat on the other side of cart from the girls. Clara and I usually sit. She drifts off until our stop with her head leaning on my shoulder.

This is the part where I never say a word. I just wait until she falls asleep. Though lately I’ve been wondering why. I decided to take her hand. Not because of anything special. I just felt I should.

She turns to me with eyes bright with confusion. “This isn’t what we do.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

She just shakes her head and leans against me. “We don’t need one.”

“Your right. We don’t need one. Just like we don’t need one to talk, but we are anyways.”

She just leaned on my shoulder and said, “They’ll give us strange looks. Things don’t change.”

“Let them watch.” I locked my fingers between hers.

“What is there even to talk about? It’s the same everyday.”

“We’ll have to change that.” It was time for a change. The evenings needed something new.

I held her hand tight, and I wasn’t ever letting go.