Coldness radiates from me.

I have no heart to warm it.

I just sit alone, ice cold, riding on the underground.

I see many people here. Old, young,

Broken, empty.

Like me. Not like me. Like me? Not like me?

Do they even see me?

And one day I saw a rat.

It was your average rat. Strolling up and down the carriages.

Not strolling. More like running for it’s life. Why did I say strolling?

Running from the shrieks, the yells,

Running from the disinterested and uncaring,

Running from those who care not to notice,

Those too busy to look up from their papers and phones.

Then it ran up to me. We locked eyes.

I opened my pocket, and it jumped in.

We went home. I haven’t seen home in so long.

I put on the kettle, I got out some food.

I let the rat out of my pocket and we sat on my table together.

We ate, we listened to music, and we were warm.