yesterday, i gave up my seat on the train to an older woman who looked like she would appreciate it, even if she was perfectly capable of standing until we reached her stop. she accepted it with grace and gratitude, and reached out for me when the train started to move again as i stood up.
later on, while i was walking with a friend, a man held the door open for us at the Chanel store, even though i was wearing a college hoodie and ratty jeans. inside, it smelled like money and stale perfume. it was the first time i've seen a price tag with four digits before the decimal point. my friend touched a few things, but i was afraid my fingers would leave smudges of the middle class on everything and i'd be scolded fiercely and told to get out by the salespeople who knew their commission didn't rest with us.
when we left, the doorman winked at me as he warmly told us to have a nice day, as if to tell me that he knows it's just nice to look at pretty things sometimes.