While on the subway, the person sitting across from me left their water bottle upside down in the side pocket. Slowly, it dripped. Each drop building up a little puddle, darkening the red seat. People looked, and turned their head. Not one person stopped to let them know. Watching the monotonous drips, I lost something.
Perhaps it is hidden, broken, perhaps.
Either way I no longer see it. Or seek it.
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