Context Free Words: Tuesday, October 7, 2025

“Look around. What do you see?”

“It’s the 6:00 AM A-line. I see people.”

“Right, but what kind of people?”

I don’t know—white people, black people, brown people.

“Tired people. Working class.”

“Everyone is tired. It’s 6:00 AM.”

“Yeah, but these people—you and me included—are perpetually worn. We’re not just tired now. We’re tired always.”

I see it then. The guy in the retro Oilers jersey, a splash of blue sky in a sea of darkness, slumped forward in his chair, eyes closed, TSA badge strapped to his wrist. The woman next to me, swaying with the train, the tips of her braids dyed orange, leopard print sling purse heavy on her shoulder, stares out the window. Her eyes hidden behind oversized and unnecessary shades. The old man in worn fleece, a vest, leaning back against cracked blue vinyl. His spine straighter than the cushion wants to allow, but his head back and twisted to find purchase, mouth open, snoring, and still clutching the roller bag. I see them, the tired.