“This is 34th St. Herald Square…” I feel the conductor talking in my coffee cup, as it vibrates in my hand: “next stop…” The styrofoam buzzes. I open my cup…he’s not in there…and it’s empty…where did he go…where did my coffee go…curious. The doors open; I leave. The train leaves; we’ve mutually disappeared. Cup in the trash, even. Bye.