On the Airtrain from JFK I overhear a conversation between two coworkers who have just left their shift at the airport. The pair is sitting next to me, and therefore out of my line of vision. But after a while, bored and overcome with curiosity, I turn and steal a glance: one is a Black man in his early thirties, the other a Caucasian woman in her late thirties or early forties. The rhythm of their conversation is familiar, as it seems to revolve around complaints and commentary about job conditions, other coworkers, inept supervisors, etc. They’re loud, but as the train becomes more crowded I’m able to tune them out. Then, after exiting the Airtrain at Howard Beach, I find myself standing in close proximity to the two on the A train platform. They’re still deeply engaged in conversation, only this time the content is political. The woman is saying that she has always been a democrat, but that she recently began voting republican (she admits that in the last election she voted for Trump). The man is incredulous: how could she vote for someone who’s a confirmed racist, xenophobe, sexist, etc.? I cringe: – the apparent workplace sympathies are about to be superseded by racial discord. I hear the woman saying something to the effect, ‘I think Black people are as racist against whites as vice versa.’ As I hear the Black man trying to calmly explain the concept of institutional racism, I walk away. On the train ride back I find myself wondering things like: in the aftermath of this conversation, will these two be able to pick up where they left off as work colleagues? How will the man ever be able to look at the woman with the same level of respect and/or friendship? Will there be any remaining workplace solidarity? Later, when I’ve climbed the steps to the shuttle train, the last leg of my long journey, I catch sight of the man again. He apparently lives in my neighborhood.