The other day when I was riding the train a female junkie in my car spotted a young couple’s baby carriage.
From the looks of the cap the junkie was wearing, she was a Hornet’s fan. And from the way she was cooing at the baby in the carriage, you could tell she liked babies.
Her male partner, a thinner and more fucked-up version of herself, kept calling her back over to him. He was hurting, and there was nothing more he–and these poor parents–wanted than for the junkie to leave their child alone.
Although the baby was chill throughout the encounter, unconcerned and uninterested in the grotesque woman standing before him, the couple (each with his/her forced smile) would have to deal with this awkwardness for at least one more stop.
Yet another side effect of parenthood: having to deal with junkies who’ve spotted your baby.