Everyone on the F train made room for your cake

You sat on the F train at rush hour on Tuesday holding a full white cake in a box on your lap, with your whole body, like a person on a mission. Nobody bumped you. Every passenger made a small invisible circle around that cake. I held a pole and a very particular fear that someone would sneeze. At Delancey you got off and the whole carriage exhaled. I counted forty people and zero incidents. Whoever the cake was for is lucky. I hope it was a birthday. I hope it was a big one.