Diversity.

There are so many people.

I watch the ex-missionary next to the window murmur a quick prayer before unwrapping his sandwich. The hooded boy in the corner fishes his cell phone from his pocket, shattering his too-cool facade with a quick grin that reveals his youth. Three loud girls at the center table laugh in mutual derision at someone who isn't present, and I can see unease on the redhead's face. A blonde couple giggles over what seems like nothing, touching hands. It's obvious the girl against the wall has taken care in styling her hair and coordinating her outfit, but her loneliness is tangible. She looks over the afternoon chaos with wide brown eyes, evaluating her position.
And I am here, too.

If I could experience your thoughts, how would they differ from the quiet roll of mine? The clear timbre that permeates my mind moves slowly, articulating each syllable so as to relish the flavor of each beautiful word. I allow thoughts to linger on my mind's stage long past their normal exit cues; it amuses me to tease them out into long strands of poetry I can knot or braid, each one falling perfectly into the constant rhythm inside my mind that can be taken as steadily reassuring or ominously inevitable, I'm never quite sure which.