Police Sirens and Mac 'N Cheese
Lunchtime in the city was
always something.
She looks tired,
guiding the train
into the station, a look
of tired glee on her face.
Cries and grins of joy,
and the child doesn't
know any better.
She glances up at the
television and sighs,
silently wringing her hands.
The snow starts to fall,
snow cone flakes of pure
sugar.
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