And I spied from across the platform an old cooler.
The white body stained yellow from years of use.
The red lid faded to a dull orange.
But the years were otherwise kind to this container.
As I gazed upon it I found myself lost in thought, the miles it must have traveled in its lifetime.
And I said aloud "It's fucking cold out today."
"You said it," a fellow train-goer agreed.