Midnight train

Hell's Kitchen. Tuesday late evening. Empty streets with just a few odd pedestrians, some young couples. Group exiting a dinner place to saying their goodbyes and each heading home by hailing a yellow cab. Occasional small business owners are closing their doors. Few blocks down 8th street and I enter Port Authority subway station to take the A-train home. It has been a long and exhausting day. Starting with the early morning in the office in the Financial District full of chaos and disorder, following the markets in these crazy times full of instability. I got a quick lunch with my newlywed sister, reflecting on all previous months we have been apart since she moved overseas. This was followed by a hectic afternoon back in the office and then catching up with old colleagues at a dinner and drinks. Exhausted but feels like a somewhat productive day. Fast-paced life in the city that never truly sleeps, full of hustlers and competition always rushing you to put in more effort...

"Stand clear of the closing doors, please!" and I jump on the train last minute. The train is as empty as the streets. There are only two people in my car. One senior gentleman, not so tidy as socially accepted, is nibbling on a burrito and staring in front of his feet. A younger middle-aged lady sitting just ten feet from me looks anxious to leave that train, constantly staring out of the window to spot her stop.

Exhaustion is conquering my body, and I am slowly forcing myself to keep my eyes open. Mind is running through daily events and how much more I have to get done upcoming days. The weekend seems so far. Relaxing days of a vacation seems even further.

"..next stop Chambers Street Station." Well, almost home. Can't fall asleep now, or I will wake up in Rockaway Beach. It's probably not a good idea to fall asleep on these trains either way. And then I notice the lady has departed... but not all her belongings. There is a brown paper box on the seat she had been sitting. I wonder when did she get off the train... was it on Canal street or before that? Should I pick up the box or leave it there? Is there a "lost and found" place to bring it, or it will be considered hazardous? Seemed like such a nice lady... It would be a shame to leave it on the train and let someone toss it or go through her private matters.

So what is in that box exactly.. it could not be doughnuts or any sort of food as the box looks quite old. Something your grandmother would keep in her closet filled with miniatures or perhaps some black and white photographs. This lady did not look old... but why would she sit next to an odd, suspicious box if there is plenty of room in the car?

Fulton Street station! This is me. What should I do? Take the box? I take the box. Worst case, I bring it to the station manager tomorrow or toss it.

I have to admit there is a decent amount of curiosity playing a role in my decision. Leaving the station with the box under my shoulder, I head towards Nassau street... Shaking the box to guess what it might contain. It doesn't make much noise, but it's not very heavy either. Eliminates the worst options.. unless it is anthrax. I work in one of the most challenging and riskiest businesses, so perhaps it's time to look danger in the eye - in person. What are the odds it actually being something shady? The most significant risk is not using an opportunity to find out.

I pull up to my floor and slowly approaching my door, looking for my keys. My mind wonders what the moral thing is to do in such a situation... Open the box or bring it to the "lost and found" next day? What if the containments will give me an answer? What a dilemma!

Placing the box on my kitchen counter. Carefully using a sharp blade, I cut the box open on the top. "Ah voila, old letters!!!" Nothing to be scared of. Some of the letters are still in the envelopes, and I can clearly read the receiver's name and address. I look for my yellow pages phone book when I realize it is probably not gonna help as much as modern solutions.

Typing the information on the browser will lead me to a family tree. I feel like a real private investigator while also feeling little guilt for stalking down my mysterious co-passenger. It won't take long until the family tree names lead me to the right picture. The lady from the train!

I decide it is perhaps too late to call as it is almost past one o'clock now. The lady named Martha works in a university, and I find her email. What a world we live in! Finding people and their contacts is so easy and quick. My deepest apologies and backstory explaining my actions, adding a little picture of the box and hitting "send". How funny I forgot how sleepy I was. It's time for some rest.

Alarm beeping! Getting ready to run to work. No time for breakfast. Slightly jogging towards my office, my personal inbox sends a notification.

"Ohh..!!" I yell out loud in the middle of Pearl Street. No one notices. Everyone is so busy with their own day rushing to survive in that fast-paced city life. Martha has responded with the most heartwarming and grateful words for me saving her grandparents letters to each other from war times. What a wonderful day! What a decision. My little midnight adventure.