Living in New York City is about trust.
Being surrounded by people.
Always people.
Packed like sardines onto the morning A train struggling to get to work
Or spread along stoops and corner stores late on a week night counting down the hours until sleep
Stopped on highway 295 packed neatly in what seems like an endless grid.
Every time I get on the A train I'm trusting that maybe this time I won't get groped by a stranger or that no one on the subway has a knife and a history of child abuse.
Every time I walk down the city street at two in the morning I'm trusting that there's not a group of men much larger than me ready to cat call me or follow me home.
Every time I get on the highway I'm trusting that the driver in the car packed so neatly behind me is watching me as carefully as I am the car in front of me and when the car in front of me stops suddenly I won't rear end them and the car behind me won't rear end me.
It's exhausting.
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