Watching a young, mentally unstable homeless woman interacting with a phonebooth, and I can almost feel her fear. It's disconcerting, watching her bang at the change slot multiple times, like the harder she flips it the more likely it is to produce spare change. Now she's given up at that, and has instead picked up the phone itself and is cradling it to her ear, pretending to talk into it. It's so obviously a connection to reality for her, and it's bringing tears to my eyes, this need of hers to have someone to call. She's huddled in on herself, trying to ignore the people passing by and staring at her. She's close enough that I can hear her when she speaks, but she's just muttering unintelligiblely and sporadically.

I want to invite her to come sit next to me, to feel safe for a minute. But this isn't the kind of fear that would go away with the temporary illusion of safety. I can feel it building up in myself, the more I watch her. I can feel her basic, animalistic anxiety, and it's resonating deep inside me. I doubt I'd be able to make her comfortable, even if I could convince her to sit with me quietly for a bit. I don't have much peace to offer these days.

But I'd like to. I'd like to steal some of the stability of the two women sitting next to me, with their Macys bags and mother daughter day bonding, and give it to her.

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