Illustration by Ji Yoon Sim | @moonbebb

A subway train streaks through the guts of Lower Manhattan, rushing past the sewers and cables and the millions of rats crawling over them. It barrels north.

It’s a Friday evening, and Joey is heading home on this train. As usual, his Herschel backpack is tucked between his knees, and he’s listening to Spotify’s “Chill Mix” playlist through beaten headphones. Over gentle piano tunes, he briefly thinks about dinner: three-day-old lemon grilled chicken. 

Sweat sticks to the back of his shirt. His face mask digs into his cheeks.

Joey looks to his right. A balding man stares glumly at his briefcase — maybe he was laid off today and doesn’t know how to deliver the news to his wife. To Joey’s left, an old woman clutches bags of groceries — perhaps she’s a grandma who’s going to make dinner for her grandkids. Directly across from him sits a group of silent teenagers, their faces glowing from smartphone light. They’re probably just scrolling through TikTok.

What if someone on this train was doing the same to Joey — observing him and inventing stories about his life? On the surface, they’d see a fresh-faced twenty-something-year-old in a collared shirt, with hair that might’ve been neatly combed in the morning but was now dangling in strands over his forehead. They could assume (and they’d be correct) that he’s a recent college grad with a shiny office job and a decent starting salary, who’s still trying to figure out the best ways to meal prep and how to tie a tie. They might also be able to guess that his weekdays consist of meetings, making PowerPoints, and more meetings; and his weekends consist of grocery shopping, jogging around Central Park, and more grocery shopping.

But they don’t know that Joey is torturing himself by playing the same scenes from today over and over again in his head. And that a deep uneasiness building in his gut is on the verge of eruption.

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The day had begun like any other. Joey arrived at his desk at 8:30 am and waved hello to the associate across from him who always got to work at 8. He flipped open his computer, cleaned out his inbox, and prepared for his stand-up meeting all while chewing a peanut butter sandwich.

By 8:45, more associates started to trickle in, some chirping “Good morning!” or “Happy Friday!” At this point, Joey had finished his sandwich and had begun creating a to-do list of today’s tasks: researching market trends, organizing a spreadsheet, polishing a presentation. And in the back of his mind, a clock was ticking away: 8:58. 8:59. 9:00.

Just as Joey predicted, Jenny walked in at the exact top of the hour. His breath quickened. It took all his willpower to glue his eyes to his computer and not glance up at her.

Jenny and Joey both joined the company a month ago as fresh college graduates. They weren’t on the same team, but they worked on the same floor. They often sat in larger meetings together and sometimes ate lunch with other new hires. Joey knew that Jenny grew up in the city, loved pineapples, and had an obsession with astronomy. There also never seemed to be a day where she didn’t land the punchline of a joke or a meeting where she didn’t say anything insightful. 

Now Jenny was ten feet away and rounding the corner to her desk. Heart thumping, Joey kept his eyes trained on his computer and pretended not to notice her approaching. Should he greet her now? No, she was too far, it would be awkward to say anything. Quickly, he decided that as soon as she was five feet away, he’d look up from his desk, look just a bit surprised to see her approaching (but not too surprised, that would be weird) and say, “Hey Jenny! How are you doing?” He’d say it with enthusiasm, but not too much — and smile in a way that was friendly, but not over the top.

Jenny was five feet away now. This was his chance.

But before Joey could even look up, he heard Jenny’s voice above him. “Morning, Joe!”

Joey was stunned. Joe? He’d just told her yesterday that technically his full name was Joey, and that only his home friends jokingly called him Joe sometimes. What did it mean for Jenny to call him that?

The few moments of preparation flew out the window. All that Joey could muster was an awkward half-smile and a small “Hey” complete with a voice crack. By then, Jenny was basically already at her desk.

Ahh! Embarrassment and frustration swept over him. How had it become impossible to even say hello to Jenny in these past few weeks? It never used to be this difficult!

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Joey hunched over his desk and did his market research (competitor shares were down two percent) and churned out some Microsoft Excel. At 10:30, he got up, stretched, and plucked a bag of Pop Corners from the burgeoning snack drawer. At 11:30, he got up, stretched again, then went to the bathroom to do his morning scrolling through the National Geographic newsletter (today they published an article about giraffes, his favorite animal) and the New York Times.

One headline in the Times caught Joey’s eye: “Wildfires Spread Smoke, and Anxiety, Across Canada to the US.”

“Canada is struggling to fight an extraordinary outbreak of wildfires this summer, which scientists believe are part of the increasing number of extreme weather events influenced by climate change,” the article read. “The smoke is expected to drift over the Northeast, including New York. Residents are encouraged to stay indoors and keep their windows closed.”

Joey frowned. Wildfire smoke on the east coast? It had been super hot and humid on his way to work this morning, but he hadn’t noticed any signs of poor air quality. As he exited the bathroom and looked out the windows, though, he could see a thin blanket of orange haze surrounding the skyscrapers.

If Joey was much younger, terror from the haze would’ve seized him. He would’ve Googled “How do you stop wildfires??” and spent hours bent over printer paper, fists full of Crayola markers, designing a device that could quench any type of fire. He would’ve hung the drawing on his bedroom wall, next to all his other drawings like “The Super Duper Oil Scooper” or “The Perfect Plastic Picker Upper.” And he’d be confident that one day, he would actually build these machines and save the world from environmental destruction.

But whatever interest little Joey had in pursuing science was killed in high school by the soulless exams that were shoved down his throat. He received C’s and D’s in engineering and biology. On the other hand, he never seemed to dip below an A- in history and English. It was only when Joey got to college, however, that he realized how bleak his job prospects would be if he majored in the humanities. So he followed everyone who studied business, believing them when they said it was the best path to a stable future. 

Now Joey was gazing unhappily at the smoke from the twentieth floor of a Wall Street building. In his heart, he still wondered if he could do more than just passively read National Geographic during his bathroom breaks. 

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12 o’clock came. Joey followed the steady stream of people making their way downstairs to the cafeteria. There was already a long line of associates waiting to be served Friday’s special of pulled pork with beans.

For some reason, Joey couldn’t help but think how all these adults standing single-file looked like little kids lining up for lunch at school. Maybe whoever said that adults were just children with more responsibilities was right.

After paying for lunch came the most awkward part: finding people to sit with. Thankfully, a team member waved at Joey to join his table. As Joey headed over, his pulse sped up when he saw Jenny sitting there with a few other associates on their floor. They were all in the middle of discussing their weekend plans — typical small talk.

“I’m probably going to go upstate with my brother for some hiking,” said Daniel, the team member that had waved Joey over.

“My friend is coming over tomorrow, so we’ll probably stop by some bars,” said Alice, who was on the same team as Jenny.

“That sounds fun!” Daniel said, wiping his mouth. “What about you, Joey? Got anything going on?”

Joey felt all eyes, including Jenny’s, fall on him.

“Um, I just started volunteering at Central Park’s youth nature program last week,” he said. “So that’s what I’m doing tomorrow.” 

A beat of silence followed. Should he have said he was going golfing instead? His mind spun trying to figure out if he’d said anything wrong until Jenny spoke.

“Wait, that’s cool!” she said. “I was thinking of getting into volunteering too. I didn’t know you liked being around kids!” 

Joey’s face immediately grew hot. He wanted to tell Jenny that at last week’s session, he’d passed around wild garlic and chickweed for the kids. He’d explained that if they just looked around, Central Park was home to a bunch of different edible greens (and poisonous ones, too). Watching their faces light up reminded Joey of how he used to feel when he attended similar events back home in rural Pennsylvania — enchanted by nature’s incessant need for balance, its dual ability to sustain and destroy life. 

But all that tumbled out of his mouth was: “Yeah, when I was small, I wanted to be a teacher or an environmentalist. So now on Saturdays I show kids how to identify plants.”

Dang! That sounded so lame! He fully expected Jenny to smile politely and say “Oh, that’s cool.” Instead she nodded thoughtfully. “Good on you for keeping up with your interests,” she said. “I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little. You know, so I could fly to the center of the Milky Way.” She chuckled a bit, as if fondly recalling her childhood fantasy. But when Joey glanced up, there seemed to be a faraway look in her eyes.

“I can still see it though. You in a spaceship,” Joey said.

“Yeah, well. Funny how I ended up here,” Jenny said, gesturing to the gray walls of the cafeteria, to the office badge hanging from her skirt.

Joey suddenly thought of something else to say.

“I’m not sure I told you this before, but near where I’m from in Pennsylvania there’s this place called Cherry Springs State Park,” he said. “I used to go all the time for their youth nature programs.” Stop sounding so nervous when you talk, he told himself. “It also has one of the darkest skies in the Eastern Seaboard. Prime for stargazing. I know that’s not exactly space exploration, but you still might want to check it out.”

Jenny’s eyes widened. The wistfulness from moments before melted away, replaced with a brightness he hadn’t really seen before. “No way!” she said. “I’ll put Cherry Springs on my bucket list. Thanks for the rec!”

The conversation then shifted to other things. While Jenny, David, and Alice chatted, Joey’s mind reeled. I’ll put Cherry Springs on my bucket list. Thanks for the rec! Maybe Jenny really meant what she said!

Several minutes passed, and the lunch break ended all too soon. Hordes of associates began making their way to the dish return. As Joey and the rest of his table followed suit, he suddenly realized that Jenny had never shared her weekend plans. If she was free tomorrow, maybe he could ask if she wanted to join him in volunteering — she had said that she wanted to get into it, and there were definitely roles that didn’t require any plant knowledge. Should he ask now, while the lunchtime conversation was still fresh? But Jenny was already a few paces ahead of him, heading up the stairs back to their floor. Had the window of opportunity passed?

Joey weaved his way through several associates to catch up to her. Just as they reached their floor and were about to part ways, he said, “Hey Jenny, I was wondering —”

“Yes?” She looked up at him. Their eyes locked, and Joey found himself staring into a sea of deep brown. He panicked, and the question immediately died in his throat.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “See you later.”

Jenny’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Okay,” she said. “See you.”

Joey made his way back to his desk and sat down, dejected. He could feel equal parts of adrenaline and chagrin coursing through his veins. What a perfect opportunity wasted! That lunch conversation was the most he’d ever spoken with Jenny. It had been going so well, and he blew it.

He turned on his computer and sighed. It was going to be a slow afternoon.

If Joey had still been a kid at school, he could’ve used recess to let off steam. He would’ve spent that time in the woods just beyond the playground, turning over every stone to look for beetles and worms. Some days, he’d also pick wild raspberries and pop them into his mouth. On others, he’d dig holes to plant stray acorns that had fallen on the sidewalk.

Except there was no recess in the office. Instead of picking berries and digging holes, Joey spent the better part of the afternoon picking font colors for his presentation and digging through endless datasets.

4 pm eventually came. Joey dragged his feet to the conference room for his team’s weekly meeting but stopped dead in his tracks as he opened the door. Through the windows, all he could see was haze. It blotted out the sun and shrouded the entire New York City skyline in a rusty hue. Down below, Joey could see pedestrians wearing face masks and sunglasses. One old man appeared to be doubled over coughing.

Joey remembered seeing a bit of haze this morning when he’d just gotten out of the bathroom. The air quality had been worrisome, but it was nothing compared to what he was seeing now. How had he failed to notice how much worse it had gotten?

No one else had arrived for the meeting yet. Quickly, Joey whipped out his phone and opened the New York Times.

Headlines immediately bombarded him. “Wildfire Smoke Prompts Health Alerts in Much of US.” “Canadian Fires Burning Where They Rarely Have Before.” “‘The Fires Here Are Unstoppable.’” Joey skimmed through them all. Once he finished all the articles about the fires and smoke, he started reading about how the world was projected to surpass the hottest day ever recorded this summer. Then he read about the Alaskan glaciers melting at record speed, the never seen before floods in Vermont. His stomach sank lower with every article he laid eyes on.

Suddenly the door swung open, interrupting Joey’s doomscrolling. Some of his team members had arrived. One paused to look out the window. “Daaaaaaang,” she said. “It looks like a scene from Blade Runner out there!”

Another let out a low whistle. “The world is ending, that’s for sure.” Then they both sat down and opened their laptops.

A few minutes later, Joey’s manager arrived, and the meeting began. But Joey could not pay attention. The only thing he could think about was how he was trapped in this air-conditioned room while the world outside burned. Every second he spent here was one less second he could be spending doing the things he always dreamed of — no — needed to be doing: advocating for the environment, teaching people to live sustainable lives. But where would he even begin to do all of this? He didn’t have any formal education in environmental science. Policymaking was slow and sleazy. And how much money did people in these fields even make?

Of course everything came down to money. Every night, little Joey had come home from school after a day full of worm searching and berry picking to find his parents counting the bills, worry lines creasing their foreheads as they wondered if they could make the month’s rent. Joey had vowed that if there was only one thing his parents would not have to worry about, it would be him. He would study hard, go to college, and work to support both himself and his parents.

There was this inexplicable rush of joy he felt when he found out that he had been hired for this job in New York. When he told his parents the news, they surprised him with a celebratory dinner at their favorite restaurant. Now, after only one month of working, how could Joey already be having doubts? What could he possibly say to his parents? “Sorry, I’m going to quit this job because I want to save the planet”? That would be insane.

Maybe Joey didn’t need to rush his next move. He could stay at the company for a couple of years, stick to volunteering on the weekends, and move on once he was ready. But melting glaciers and burning forests didn’t care if Joey didn’t feel ready. If now wasn’t the right time, then when was?

The meeting ended early, and thankfully, that meant the work day had ended early too. Joey went back to his desk and packed up his things. As he was on his way out, he noticed Jenny still typing away on her computer.

Immediately, Joey paused his thoughts about his career and his future. He remembered talking with Jenny at lunch, and how he’d fumbled when he’d tried to ask her about her weekend plans. This was his chance to redeem himself.

Joey took two deep breaths. He shouldered his backpack and he walked over to Jenny’s desk, his heart pounding.

“Hey Jenny,” he began. “I’m heading out. See you Monday!”

Joey thought Jenny would reply with something like “Ok! Have a nice weekend, Joey!” Then he could jump in with “Oh, I forgot to ask earlier, what are you up to tomorrow?”

But he should have known that his predictions were always wrong. Jenny swiveled around in her chair to face him. “Hey!” she said. “Before you leave, do you mind if I ask you something?”

What could Jenny possibly ask? Joey’s thoughts swirled with a million different potential questions. Why have you been acting so weird lately? How come your hair always starts drooping by 1 pm? Are you trying to ask me out? 

“It’s about Cherry Springs,” Jenny continued. She showed Joey her computer screen. “I’m on their website right now, and it looks like they have an overnight astronomy field where you can camp out! But you need passes. I was wondering if you knew how to register for them.”

Joey breathed out a sigh of relief. Inside, he did a little happy dance. Jenny had remembered about Cherry Springs and wanted his help!

“I’ve never actually been stargazing there, so I don’t know much about the astronomy field passes,” he admitted. “But let me see what I can do.” He bent over and took her mouse (after asking for her permission, of course). Then he spent a minute clicking around the website, but couldn’t find anything about the field passes. Was it because the site was hard to navigate? Or was it because Joey was so distracted by the fact that Jenny’s face was literally two inches from his?

After a few more moments of aimless clicking, Joey stood up. “Sorry I couldn’t be more useful,” he said sheepishly. His face felt like a furnace. “You might want to try calling the park people about getting some passes.”

“No worries! Just thought it’d be worth asking,” Jenny said. “Sorry to hold you up. Have a great weekend!”

“Yeah, no problem!” Joey said. “You have a great weekend too.” He gave Jenny what he thought was a pleasant smile, then headed out.

As Joey walked down the stairs, he could still hear his pulse in his ears. Aside from the fact that he hadn’t been much help to Jenny, that interaction hadn’t been half bad. She was taking his Cherry Springs recommendation to heart. And she was acting super fast on it, too!

Joey reached the office building lobby, smiling to himself. But just as he was about to go outside, he froze. He’d forgotten about the most important thing! He’d been so caught up in trying to help Jenny that asking her about her weekend plans had totally slipped his mind.

You literally had one job! he scolded himself. He stood dumbly at the lobby’s revolving doors, debating whether he should go back upstairs. He could pretend to have forgotten something. No, Joey never forgot things in the office, and he was awful at lying. Alternatively, he could wait for Jenny to come down to the lobby. That would be even worse — doing that would make him look weird and desperate. Better to just suffer defeat.

Joey let out a deep sigh and pushed through the revolving door. As soon as he stepped out onto the street, his nose filled with the smell of burning smoke. His eyes stung. Hurriedly, he fished around in his backpack for a mask and put it on. The straps tugged painfully at his ears and the mask pinched his face, but at least he didn’t feel like he was smoking a pack of cigarettes with every breath.

The Friday rush hour was as unforgiving as ever. Joey tried to ignore the blaring car horns as he trailed behind other adults in collared shirts and loafers. He dodged open-mouthed tourists holding their phones to the reddish sky and brushed past fruit sellers trying to get rid of their last bits of watermelon. Eventually, he reached the subway station, tapped his phone onto the reader, and stood shoulder to shoulder with other commuters at the platform. A train approached moments later and came to a screeching halt. Then the car doors opened, and he walked inside.

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Joey slouches in his seat. He replays each interaction he had with Jenny today: first in the morning, when he’d been too flustered to say hello; then during lunch, when he couldn’t muster the courage to ask about her weekend plans; and finally just a few minutes ago, when he meant to ask again but completely forgot to. He wonders over and over again how each conversation could have gone differently in a million ways.

Every few minutes, the train pauses to spit out a few passengers and swallow some new ones. Joey sees a couple step inside, laughing and holding hands. He looks away.

For the rest of the train ride, he keeps his eyes closed. Through the blackness of his vision, though, he can still see a mishmash of things: Jenny’s face, the hazy skyline, those foreboding New York Times headlines.

After a thirty-minute commute, Joey arrives at his studio apartment. He takes out a Tupperware from the fridge containing leftover chicken, puts it in the microwave, and presses START. As the food reheats, Joey opens his dresser and picks out tomorrow’s clothes: a t-shirt that says “CENTRAL PARK VOLUNTEER”,  a baseball cap, and khaki shorts. Then, from under the dresser, he pulls out a cardboard box.

Taking a deep breath, he lifts the lid to reveal a stack of printer paper, most of which are tinged yellow and crinkle at the edges. Each paper contains a drawing of some curious feat of engineering that could’ve only sprung from a child’s imagination. Scrawled on the top of each page is a title for the design, along with the date on which it was created. The Super Duper Oil Scooper: April 10, 2010. The Perfect Plastic Picker Upper: July 5, 2013. 

Joey had felt compelled to bring these old illustrations to New York, but he can’t remember the last time he’d actually looked at them. Now, as he pages through each one, a floodgate of memories opens.

He recalls the day his third-grade science teacher gave each student a copy of the “National Geographic for Kids” magazine to take home. As soon as Joey got his hands on one, he was hooked. The glossy pages, which felt like silk between his fingers, danced with an eclectic mix of animal facts, wildly drawn cartoons, and breathtaking landscapes. The section titled “World’s Coolest Inventions” captivated him the most. There were gadgets that Joey had never heard of, like the flying drone, the 3D printer, and the wireless headset. He couldn’t believe that people had come up with ideas for these technologies and had actually made them! Instead of paying attention in class, he pored over each invention and read the accompanying text as best he could. 

Weeks later, his science teacher came to class with a much less fun agenda. She explained that a very large oil spill had occurred off the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, and they were going to learn about its devastating effects on the environment. Joey’s blood boiled as she described how the surrounding ecosystems would need up to 500 years to fully recover. The hairs on his neck stood upright when she showed everyone pictures of animals drenched in oil.

Instead of going outside for recess that day, Joey went to the library. He grabbed a handful of markers, plucked a sheet of paper from the printer, and sat down. Recalling the inventions from National Geographic, he furiously began sketching one of his own: a large vehicle that resembled a floating garbage truck. To this, he added a massive suction pipe that could suck limitless amounts of oil from the water and finished off the illustration with a purifying tank that cleansed the water of all pollutants. Thus his first drawing — The Super Duper Oil Scooper — was born.

Waves of nostalgia roll over Joey as looks through his drawings and relives these moments. The marker ink had faded a long time ago, but the youthful zeal in each design radiates stronger than ever. When Joey studies them harder, though, he spots a few details he hasn’t noticed before. Some of the designs have tiny labels explaining how each individual part works. Others have little notes written in the corners. 

“When I grow up I want to be an ENVIRONMENTALIST,” one reads.

“I’m going to go to college and learn about engineering and ecology!” says another.

“I want to start a company to build all these things and SAVE THE PLANET!!!” states a third.

The microwave beeps to signal that the food is ready, but Joey ignores it. He puts the papers back in the box and slides the container back under the dresser. Little Joey had dreamed big. Could present-day Joey still do the same?

Joey reaches for his personal laptop, turns it on, and opens a blank document. He titles it “Future Plans.” Now might not be the time for Joey to switch jobs, but there was always the possibility of going back to school. He spends the next half hour scouring the Internet for graduate programs. As he browses different curriculums and application deadlines, he sees himself back in college, taking classes and solving cases about the environmental impacts of business behaviors. He sees himself in a cap and gown, graduating with a Master of Environmental Management, a Master of Business Administration, or a joint Masters in both. He sees himself in the coming years using those degrees to consult with sustainable companies, partner with environmental engineers, or to start his own business. There was still some hope after all.

Joey looks up from his laptop, satisfied with the list of programs he’s found. He makes a mental note to search for more programs later and to find people with grad school experience to speak with. Meanwhile, he resolves to continue with his current job for at least the rest of the year — who knows, if Joey applies to grad school, his company might even cover some of the fees and tuition. He’ll continue volunteering at Central Park too, but perhaps he will go more frequently and take on larger roles.

Joey catches himself staring at the neon green “CENTRAL PARK VOLUNTEER” t-shirt folded neatly on the top of his dresser. He still can’t get over how there might’ve been a slim chance that he and Jenny could have volunteered together.

Then a realization dawns on him — there is still a way to ask Jenny about tomorrow! Joey shuts his laptop, takes out his cell phone, and opens the text messaging app. He’d left the office only an hour ago, and early at that. There was a chance Jenny was still online and working.

Joey drafts up a few variations of a message before eventually settling with “hey Jenny! I meant to ask earlier but totally forgot – if you’re free tomorrow between 10 am to 12, do you want to volunteer with me at Central Park?” His thumb hovers over the send button for a few seconds. Maybe he is being too rash, and he should just try asking Jenny again next week. But Jenny probably wouldn’t think too much of this, right? What did he really have to lose? 

Joey inhales sharply, shuts his eyes, and presses SEND. A whooshing noise lets him know the message has been delivered. Then, as if his phone was about to detonate, he scoops it up and places it in the farthest corner of the room. If Jenny replies, the device will notify him with a ding.

After that, Joey resumes his evening routine. He takes the Tupperware out of the microwave and sits down at his little dining table. As he eats his dinner, which has gone slightly cold, he notices that his chest feels lighter somehow.

After Joey finishes eating, he washes the dishes and wipes the table. All the while, he listens expectantly for a ding. Forty minutes have now passed since Joey sent the text, and still, his phone has remained silent. It’s a Friday evening, after all. By now Jenny most definitely has left the office and has turned off her phone.

Joey then brushes his teeth and washes his face. Still no noise from his phone. That’s okay — Jenny will inevitably see the text on Monday, which will give him the chance to ask her about volunteering next weekend instead.

Joey decides it’s best to go about his night and leave today’s events to rest. He takes out his contact lenses, showers, and pulls on his pajamas. Then he unfurls his yoga mat to stretch out his stiff joints. Downward Dog and Child’s Pose feel great after an entire day sitting hunched over a computer.

When Joey is done stretching, he rolls the yoga mat up, places it against the wall, and hops into bed. He takes out a book he’s been reading — Dune by Frank Herbert — and picks up where he left off. As he flips through the pages, though, the apartment feels far too quiet. The “Chill Mix” that he was listening to on the train ride home ought to be playing in the background. This, of course, requires Joey to get his phone to play it.

Joey puts his book down, climbs out of bed, and walks to the other side of his apartment. Just as he reaches down and picks up his phone, the screen lights up and lets out a sharp ding.

Joey almost drops his phone in surprise. He squints to read the message that has just been delivered. He’s unsure if he interpreted it right, so he reads it again. Then, slowly, a smile spreads over his face.

***

Acknowledgements: Biggest of thank-yous to Adam Lin, Annie Zhang, and Kevin Tan for your keen edits and words of encouragement, and to Ji Yoon Sim for creating the most beautiful cover art. Without all of you this story would have never seen the light of day.