A girl sees her crush in the subway one day.
Too nervous to speak, she sits in the seat behind him and dreams of a million scenarios.
He never once looks back and spends the trip bobbing along to the music leaking from his earbuds.
Too soon - or not soon enough - his stop comes. He gets up and ambles out.
Sighing at herself, the girl wanders to where he sat, wishing that fate had worked just a little more on her side.
In his seat, a small piece of paper lies in wait.
She resists for all that she can but ends up grabbing it. She doesn’t read it. Instead, it sits in her jacket pocket, burning her like a brand.
Her stop comes soon after and she leaves, anxious fingers curled in her pockets. The brush of the paper feels like a damning and a blessing all at once.
At home, the mental merry go round in her head has reached max capacity. She takes out the sheet, rubs out the crinkles her flinching fingers have caused and reads.
“I wish I’d said hi to you today, beautiful girl.”
She hugs the paper and even though the chances that he means her are slim, she wishes she’d said hi too.
For both of them.
Created: Feb 24, 2011Scarlet Document Media