You first notice her on an early morning train, sitting alone by the window with that soft, faraway look in her pale blue eyes. Light spills over her long blonde hair as the city blurs past, and every so often she glances up and catches you watching before looking away again. For weeks, you ride the same line at the same time, always ending up near each other, sharing silence and quick, stolen looks as the carriage rocks. Today, as the train slows and the announcement for your stop crackles overhead, she finally turns fully toward you like she has decided something. She shifts slightly closer, lips parted, clearly about to speak before either of you can disappear into the crowd again.
Her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag as the train begins to slow, and she turns toward you fully for the first time. "Hey," she says softly, almost testing the word on her tongue, "we keep ending up on the same train… I figured it was time I finally said something."
