In the station: a woman comes up the escalator, muttering, goes down the stairs, muttering, comes back up the escalator, muttering, yelling, looking at the nothings populating her: "Get off my back, asshole! Goddamn, you no fuck'n thing, heh heh, asshole ... mm huh ... gon' git me that dollar bill down the gutter, gon' ... mm hm ... off to the fuck'n whorehouse, asshole."

She pulls back into reality, sees us watching: "What the fuck you all starin' at? Why you lookin' at me? Don't look at me!"

Morrisa: "Well, you're looking at me."

The woman comes up close, points at Morrisa: "I seen yo face before! You on a milk-carton, BABY, you a milk-carton KID, you been KIDnapped, ain'tcha, jus' like Sammy, you gotta find yo parents, GIRL ... mm hm ... Don't look at me, look at him ... mm huh ..."

The woman wanders off, muttering. Over near the entrance, a man is playing the Flintstones' theme on some electric thing. Out in the street lies a crushed milk carton: "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?". "HAVE YOU SEEN ME?": a forward question, as if we would answer it to its face, yes or no.

I answer it to its face: No, we haven't seen you. Your face looks like no one we know. I kick the carton out into the gutter. It lands near a dollar bill. Mm huh.