Things I did not say to a kid with a copy of autobiography of red in his jeans on the New York subway at 3am

You’re overwrought—you’ve fallen asleep in your seat—you look like you’ve barely made it out of the zoo. You got in town after your boyfriend dumped you. You burned your ID; the smell of plastic made you nauseous. Before he left, he gave you a book called Autobiography of Red. You leafed through it, then put…