Can you see him? I hope so.

A little something I wrote tonight about a man I saw on the subway; I hope you like it, but more importantly, I hope you can see him:

"Bigsby Rysdale frequented the subway stop at chambers street every morning at approximately 6:03am. He preferred caked not glazed donuts and enjoyed the occasional game of Parcheesi with Madge, his next door neighbor.

Every morning at 5:11 Bigsby hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He counted 58 seconds I his head before rolling out of his tangled sheets and slipping his stiff small feet into cotton slippers. Even though Bigsby was 57 years old, he still laid his clothes out nightly for the next day as his mother had taught him to do more than 50 years before.
Of course, bigsby’s mother was now dead. He stole a box of recipes from her house before the lawyer came to appraise everything as Bigsby’s sister, Laine, had arranged. Every now and again, when he was feeling quite saggy and bland in his heart, Bigsby would take the box of recipes down from the top shelf in his closet and make his mother’s famous potatoes au gratin. They were still his childhood comfort—cheesy soft potatoes, sliced into thin starchy saucers, warm and slippery in his mouth, salty and chewy and somehow extraordinarily comforting…"