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Posted on 2005.11.08 at 17:45
I saw her in the Metro, coming home from work.

I was pretty sure that our paths would never cross again, especially since she'd taken down her journal. But there she was, all fragile looking in her black coat with the frilly collar and wearing her pink tuque like a shield of invisibility, then she disappeared behind a crush of commuters.

We swayed with the motion of the train like anemones in a tropical current - well, more like densely-packed brocolli on a supermarket counter - until the train came to a stop, releasing us onto the next platform.
We flowed with the throng, making the second leg of our journey home; desperately squeezing into the next train so that we wouldn't miss an extra moment of home-time. We rush home with more fervour than we do going to work. If we had swords it would be a pitched battle all the way home, instead it's backpacks and umbrellas - not that that changes anything except for the butchers bill.

I caught a glimpse of the tuque again, after the assault on the breach; It was resting on a tall mans chest. I smiled inside, waving and happy, then she was gone again but for the reflection of her tuque on the subway windows.


_r_e_q_u_i_e_m_ at 2005-11-09 15:08 (UTC) (Permanent link)
OH OH OH this is gorgeous.
Simply Stan
paperpath at 2005-11-09 17:40 (UTC) (Permanent link)
Thank you, Req :)
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