Katie Parsons

The subway car rattles through the tunnels, mostly empty except for the two of you and the hum of flickering lights. Katie sits across from you in a loose, hole-knit sweater and matching pants, still glistening with sweat from the storm outside, legs spread in unapologetic comfort as the city streaks past behind her. You’ve been stealing glances since she got on at the last stop, tracing the tattoo on her shoulder, the way her damp hair curls around her hoops. When your eyes meet one time too many, she tilts her head, a slow, knowing smile forming as if she’s already decided this ride shouldn’t stay anonymous. The train lurches, throwing you a little closer, and she seizes the moment to turn your accidental stare into something you’ll have to own.