diary / by Edward Mullany


There had been a suicide earlier in the day, at the station in the subway I find myself in when I’ve worked in Manhattan and am ready to go home, but I didn’t realize it till later that night, when I’d returned from the city and had walked through my neighborhood and, in my apartment, had lay down with my phone to scroll through my apps and to look at some headlines, though when I came across the story, which I’d linked to from social media, I learned that the incident had happened around noon, which was several hours before I’d arrived on the platform from which the person had jumped, which explained why, by the time I got there, and was standing among the other commuters, most of whom seemed tired, impatient or bored, the trains were running again, everything had returned to normal, and I saw no indication that a tragedy had occurred.