Click-clack, click-clack. “No Bill, I already told you I can’t go out tonight! I have meetings until 6 and then I have Laura’s bachelorette party.” Shiny, patent black stilettos strut by in a girl’s peripheral vision. The continuous racket they make on the tiled subway floor rings in her obscenity filled ears. Ching, clang. A few pennies fall into the plastic cup at her feet, and a girl looks up to see a small golden haired cherub being scolded by his disgusted mother. Drunken college students saunter by, jeering, sneering, and then spitting onto the blonde boy’s pity money. A girl curls herself up into a ball atop a sloppy cushion of day old newspapers, McDonald’s big mac wrappers, and her daughter’s baby blanket from the hospital. A girl cries for the daughter she released to a kindly middle aged couple in the suburbs. A girl remains forever under our noses, wasting away.