"We must learn to live together as brothers or we will perish together as fools."

~Martin Luther King Jr.

A boy sat on the low wall, his gaze darting around and searching the faces of the people passing by. His foot bounced, his hands ran through his hair, his fingers tapped out a rhythm on his knee. He was lithe and muscular, with the grace of a panther and the self-restraint of a small child. A dancer, I decided. Someone who's only comfortable moving, and unable to be otherwise.

A girl sat on a bench, strands of hair curtaining her face as her pencil made careful lines on a page. Slowly, a person emerged, an odd mix of animal and human. She stopped and considered her lines, reworking their pose as she saw fit. A speech bubble appeared, the words matching the grin on their creation's face. A writer, doing her best to bring her characters to life.

A boy lounged on a table, talking animatedly to his friend. His hands gestured around him, laughing loudly as he retold a favorite story. He grinned at the people passing, enjoying the strange looks he was getting and basking in the attention. Yet there was a certain stiffness in his back, and certain ferocious joy in his smile. Someone who's heard and seen too much to care what people thought anymore, taking everything as a challenge.

A girl kept her head down, scrolling through her phone as she leaned against a wall. Ripped jeans, name brand shoes, earbuds in and ignoring the world. The model stereotype, the surface of a generation people only skimmed over. Maybe it was the way her arm rested across her chest, seeming more self-protective than casual. The way her shoulders were raised, as if perfectly aware of the glances she was receiving.  Someone who wasn't comfortable with attention. Insecurities born from friends or family, it was impossible to tell.

And me. A passerby, a stranger, a fleeting detail in someone else's story. I've spent my life trying to figure myself out, and from there, the others around me. Who I am doesn't matter. You won't remember me.

But I'll remember you.