There’s an old man beside me, sitting untouched in the ripped withered chair. He sits alone, his only company, a crossword puzzle. Coffee complimented with 2 pieces of apple pie, his highlighters neatly placed parallel to the book. Concentration becomes him, screaming children does not impair the streaking.

And for a few seconds, with strong beliefs of being unnoticed, unimportant, he releases a look of pure nostalgia. Memories flood the man’s white hair, pupils left vacant.