My seemingly normal subway ride is interrupted by a sudden burst of energy. A frustrated mother walks onto the subway, and jumping up and down, a small boy follows. You can tell he’s different, and people begin to stare with cautious looks on their faces. The mother commands her son to sit down while she takes a phone call. The boy has trouble concentrating, and his big brown eyes and twitchy fingers keep moving. She finds two empty seats and they happen to be next to me. She scolds her son, and it triggers more anxiety in him. She forces him to read a picture book and he flips through the pages as he drums his fingers on the page. Her words are all sticks and stones to him, and I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. They left the subway before I had the courage to say something, and the scene keeps replaying in my mind. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, even a few words of encouragement to you. I know that you can turn into something beautiful, and I hope that your mom can see all of the beauty I saw in you. I probably couldn’t have done anything to help, and I would have just been a nosy stranger, but I’ll never forget you and the words I couldn’t collect quickly enough to tell you.