I Saw My Daughter’s Face on a Subway Poster, and My Wife Went Silent
The subway smelled like wet wool and old coins the night I noticed the poster. My daughter squeezed my fingers, and my wife hurried ahead, impatient, toward the black car. It was taped crookedly to a pillar, half peeled, fluttering when trains roared past. A child’s face stared out, familiar enough to hurt, under my…
