Lauren Suval

When standing inside an air-conditioned subway car on the way to West 4th Street, observing his smile, a piece of you stays.

Some of the narratives we read on Thought Catalog have the potential to stay with us, to tug at our heart space in that moment and the moments beyond.

An elderly man at a nearby table peers at her rather curiously.

Spoilers ahead!

We can customize our page with various backgrounds, pictures, and even songs. On multiple dimensions, we’re able to share ourselves with our peers.

And as I move, I see sun.

Their door just closed.

They were stoned, and they were crying.

The building’s awning shed its green for a shade of red, likened to cranberry, the furniture in the lobby was arranged differently, and my Dad and I were wholeheartedly determined to walk up one flight of steps and visit our old apartment on the first floor.

When it comes to Bruce Springsteen’s lyrics, I could drone on and on, but I decided to do all of us a favor, and only highlight a small handful of some of his insightful lines (with a bit of my own interpretation as well).

“I don’t do ice cream. It’s like sweet mucus.”

We can attempt to freeze the clock and mentally press pause.