At the F Station in Park Slope on our way to the Aquarium in Coney Island, Katie and I wander along the platform waiting for the train. Suddenly she spots something at the other end of the station. "It, it, it, it, it," she says, pointing, eyes wide, and I follow her gaze, but don't see what she's pointing at.
She drags me down the platform, and after some discussion with a few folks, we spot it: a single red balloon, bobbing in the invisible currents of air over the train tracks, floating down the tunnel into the darkness and, presumably, the Deadlights.
No comments:
Post a Comment