A resthome coworker (1 of 2): Her.

One of my resthome coworkers is a (young) (African-American) woman who's a bit spacey.

For example, the other day I was saying something about how I had cooked up some lentil soup, and she didn't know what a lentil was.

She lives pretty far away from the resthome on the other side of the city with her parents, and her commute takes her like an hour to an hour-and-a-half, she says.

Sometimes, we take the subway together after work for part of our commute, and the other night when I had been reading and she had been zoning out on her earbuds, she got up to change trains and I said goodbye, and when I said that, she got all surprised and was like, "Oh, I forgot you were here!".

She told me, too, that she likes to sit at the second train car from the front, not the front one; the front one would be closer to where she has to go so she would have to walk less, but the people who walk up and down trains selling stuff stop and rest a lot in the end cars, she says, so she doesn't use them.