This morning was hard. Exhale. The mundane and the tragic collided. My whole morning sprawled out before me in a complicated matrix that would get me to the train station. My mind and heart were heavy with thoughts of Nia Wilson and her beautiful, vibrant, just-barely-getting-started life being cut short by a man who didn’t give it a second thought. She was going somewhere and then she was gone. I clenched my teeth and wanted to bite my fist, turn back the clock. Make it fucking stop. How can she be dead? How can a sister have had to helplessly cradle her sister? How can the world keep going? Oh, never mind, this is America. The ink and the buried articles about…