As the doors were about to close, a woman with red hair jostled onto the train. She was sweating and had a backpack slung over her shoulder. She seemed fatigued, or maybe just overwhelmed, like she was taking her first real breath of the day.

I noticed that her wallet seemed to be falling out of an open pocket in her backpack. I tapped her lightly on the shoulder.

“Your bag is open,” I said.

She smiled, zipped her pack and got off at the next stop.

One morning some time after that, I sprinted to the G train, barely making it onto the last one that might get me to work on time. My alarm had not gone off. I had not had time to pack a lunch. It was raining. Hard.

After getting off at Lorimer and starting to make my way to the L, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Your backpack is open,” a quiet voice behind me said.

— Sierra Lewandowski

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