The sandwich shop sits on the corner of Solano and San Pablo. Inside, the walls are covered in paintings of old New York subway tubes; some of the pictures are of people waiting for the subway, some standing in the subway, and ancient blueprints and subway maps. An older man sits by himself, his mouth gaping and crashing closed as he chomps at his sandwich. Pieces of lettuce and pickle dribble out of the bread. The door opens to a biker who is wearing a stylish, yet thick, winter sweater. Cars zoom by outside. An old lady hobbles by using a silver, plastic cane. A young lady crosses the street, her mangy, white pup leading her through the all-too nice traffic, which slams on brakes and waves kindly to the nice lady and her dog, while
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