It's 2:00 AM and I'm on the J train back to Marcy Ave on a cold, damp night in December. My car's been parked in Brooklyn for three days now, at the same spot as last time. For the most part, the train is quiet; not much going on, not many people on the train this late.
Brooklyn is still buzzing; people roaming the semi-frozen sidewalks, the smell of cigarettes looming on the corner, the endless hum of traffic above and below.
I've been here for a little while, and I think I'll stay.
