There is this peaceful way Sarah listens to her immediate surroundings: she’s always wanting to find some other truth in the world, and she’s really quite unstoppable when she wants to buy in. She is told the proper way to live is about buying in, about getting outside your comfort zone, doing more. She waits in line patiently at the grocery store, picking up something special for her favorite person, her honey bunny. Bit by bit, like breathing, it happens naturally now, the listening. It’s the how and why of everything, the listening. The calming the fuck down and listening. Petty, vicious thoughts drown out in her head and her worries soften. There are people everywhere coming from everywhere, hurried bodies and swinging limbs flowing from walkways and corridors. There are even people coming into view from below ground, smoothly rising from parallel escalators from the shiny new light rail station. She loves watching the unsexy rare speed of someone conscientious, someone fraught in public trying to be polite. It’s a strange dance trying to be this nice, to think of and consider other people. In her hoodie, Sarah watches everyone, listening. She imagines herself into air.