As I arrived at the train station, I noticed a piece of paper taped to the wall of the south side platform. I wondered, would it be political or religious? I leaned toward the latter, as the midterms are over, and politicians no longer feel the need to send their servants out to local train stations.
It was addressed to "you." As in me. As in anyone who would care to stop by and read it. The writer went on to talk about how we are strangers and have no idea who each other are. And it went on to say that "I love you" and "you are important." Okay, even a jaded asshole like me can admit that that's kind of touching. It's nice that someone went out of their way to bring a ray of sunshine into someone's day.
But as always, the dark side of me kicked in. What if I was a serial killer? Or a pedophile? Or even worse, a politician trying to get elected?
Maybe it doesn't matter, though. If one were to ask, say, Jesus (the one in the Bible, not the legions of backwards Christians who claim to follow in his footsteps) about this, he would probably say that love is the answer, one way or the other. I don't buy it, but then again I'm not the son of God. Unless Mom forgot to mention something to me, that is.
It reminded me of the first time I'd ever gone to Bachelors Grove. I found a whole bunch of notes, identical, on each gravestone. It was from a lonely goth girl looking for people who might want to hang out with her, maybe become friends. I wonder whatever happened to her. I hope she found what she was looking for.
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