1.
Last Tuesday is the first time I saw you, I think, and then you disappeared. But you’ve been here every day this week. Are you new to the area, or have you only just entered a routine that involves the 7am train?
2.
You pull off that fuzzy-eyed, tussled-hair look well. I only hope you think the same of me. Or better.
Last Tuesday is the first time I saw you, I think, and then you disappeared. But you’ve been here every day this week. Are you new to the area, or have you only just entered a routine that involves the 7am train?
2.
You pull off that fuzzy-eyed, tussled-hair look well. I only hope you think the same of me. Or better.
3.
I forgot to mention, I like your sweater-vest. Usually not my style, but it’s winter and I can tell you want to keep warm.
I forgot to mention, I like your sweater-vest. Usually not my style, but it’s winter and I can tell you want to keep warm.
4.
I thought you might have picked it up by now, but you haven’t. So, as a veteran commuter, I feel obliged to offer you some advice: Don’t stand so far down the platform. If the train suddenly pulls up on, say, Platform 3, you’ll never make it up the ramp and to the other side of the station in time. I’d hate for you to be late. Where is it that you go?
5.
I told you so. Welcome now to the Middle of the Platform.
I thought you might have picked it up by now, but you haven’t. So, as a veteran commuter, I feel obliged to offer you some advice: Don’t stand so far down the platform. If the train suddenly pulls up on, say, Platform 3, you’ll never make it up the ramp and to the other side of the station in time. I’d hate for you to be late. Where is it that you go?
5.
I told you so. Welcome now to the Middle of the Platform.
6.
It was, I estimate, about 11 degrees this morning. I was eating toast as I walked to the station and it was cold before I even made it halfway through the first slice. You weren’t wearing your vest. I hope you were warm.
It was, I estimate, about 11 degrees this morning. I was eating toast as I walked to the station and it was cold before I even made it halfway through the first slice. You weren’t wearing your vest. I hope you were warm.
7.
Another chilly day. I was hidden under a beanie and a grey scarf that came right up to my bottom lip. I was just about breathing clouds, puffing out gorgeous wisps of white. I was going to write your name, so it would hover there in front of my face, but then I realised I don’t know it. Let me guess. Donovan? Sebastian? Christopher, perhaps with a K?
Another chilly day. I was hidden under a beanie and a grey scarf that came right up to my bottom lip. I was just about breathing clouds, puffing out gorgeous wisps of white. I was going to write your name, so it would hover there in front of my face, but then I realised I don’t know it. Let me guess. Donovan? Sebastian? Christopher, perhaps with a K?
8.
Another sweater-vest! In green!
9.
You were sneezing this morning. Big, blustery sneezes. If I’d been standing any closer, I might have gotten a share of it myself. I guess that green vest’s just not up to the job. Bring back the blue.
Another sweater-vest! In green!
9.
You were sneezing this morning. Big, blustery sneezes. If I’d been standing any closer, I might have gotten a share of it myself. I guess that green vest’s just not up to the job. Bring back the blue.
10.
Would you like a tissue? I think it’s important that we know how to talk to strangers, to depend on our neighbours and live in a bubble bigger than our own heads. I’ll keep them in my bag and you just ask anytime, okay?
Would you like a tissue? I think it’s important that we know how to talk to strangers, to depend on our neighbours and live in a bubble bigger than our own heads. I’ll keep them in my bag and you just ask anytime, okay?
11.
I checked MX on the way home this evening, that column where people write in and shout to the object of their desire. I expected my heart to do a little tinkling, for a lightness to swell in my stomach and move to my head, make me dizzy, but there was no mention of a generous, raven-haired bunny on the 7.02. Do you think I’m more like a lamb?
I checked MX on the way home this evening, that column where people write in and shout to the object of their desire. I expected my heart to do a little tinkling, for a lightness to swell in my stomach and move to my head, make me dizzy, but there was no mention of a generous, raven-haired bunny on the 7.02. Do you think I’m more like a lamb?
12.
I was going to leave you a note about how Vitamin C will clear that dirty cold of yours right up, but I decided against it because I knew you wouldn’t listen anyway. Why waste all that effort and ink and tree? You’re not worth it and maybe you never will be. Still, I’ll see you Monday morning? This is your last chance, mister.
13. I was going to leave you a note about how Vitamin C will clear that dirty cold of yours right up, but I decided against it because I knew you wouldn’t listen anyway. Why waste all that effort and ink and tree? You’re not worth it and maybe you never will be. Still, I’ll see you Monday morning? This is your last chance, mister.
I suppose you had a good weekend then. She’s pretty, that one, I’m glad for you. But, you know, she’ll probably break your heart. It’s in her hair. Good luck is all I can say. And maybe get a car. Girls like that, they like cars.
No comments:
Post a Comment