The Irony of Good Morning

I was able to wake up today having forgotten the events of yesterday in Boston. Maybe it was because I was at the farm yesterday, completely out of range of the media, my attention close to the earth. This morning I went out to garden just a bit, before heading out to work. The irony of the upstairs tenant's first and only words to me in six months, "good morning." Afterward I went to the corner deli and as I waited for a sandwich, suffered the shock and gut sickness of the bombing via color photos on all the area newspapers. How can I eat?

The train was eerily empty today and the same for the Columbus Circle station. So is school.