You: Pretty man with brown curls and calm dark eyes, black leather bomber jacket, light blue jeans. You looked white, maybe in your 20-30s, clean shaven, about 5’10” with a slim build. Hair and face shape a tiny bit like daniel millar but older, calmer. You had a tattoo, I think, near the base of your index finger, writing on the palm of your hand, and a skin tag(?) near the left corner of your mouth.

Me: Nervous girl who kept looking at you, then away. Long black hair, lavender hoodie, light blue baseball cap.

Around 5pm, I stepped onto the train at WTC, squeezed past a man in traditional robes, and saw you sitting right in front of me. You caught me looking. I looked away. But I couldn't help looking down at you again.

We kept locking eyes — again and again — like something unsaid was passing between us. I closed my eyes at one point just to calm down. You turned and smiled at the status board. You checked your phone, fidgeted with your hands. I noticed some writing on your palm. Then you looked up and held my gaze.

You didn’t offer your seat, and part of me wondered why — but another part thinks maybe you were just as nervous as I was.

One stop later the woman beside you left, and I sat down feeling a little weird, a little warm. I pretended not to care that you were slightly turned my way. I closed my eyes again — not to sleep, but to feel. To wonder. Wishing the ride could last longer than those few quiet minutes - I knew my stop was next.

I got off the train, and that was it.

But something about the way we kept finding each other’s eyes hasn’t left me. I’ve thought about that moment more times than I’d like to admit — the timing, the stillness, the maybe of it all.

If you remember me too…
well, I wouldn’t mind hearing from you.