The Girl on the 305 ✨
Subways, Mondays — they’re all the same to me. Or so I thought… ☕
I brisked past the dingy station, crowds buzzing around me, the air thick with chatter and the patter of footsteps. I stepped onto the escalator, whirring beneath my feet, my pecan latte in hand. There’s not a day I can go without it.
I crunched down the maple leaves on the flights of stairs leading to the main gate. There, I waited, leaning against the railing, watching the happenings of a lazy Monday. It’s ironic how the word Monday evokes a strange sense of duty, yet insolently, we fail to comply — lazily marching toward it, hazy, half awake, half alive.
Anyway, enough of that — me and my philosophical rants. I hopped on the 305, minding the gap, indeed, as the autumn breeze whirred the doors shut. I found no seat I could peruse, so I stood. Not that I minded, as long as I could people-watch, my favorite pastime. All people contain stories within them if you read between the lines well enough. And I did.
Hmm, where to find interesting people? I looked around for my usual contestants. Up front sat Sarah — forehead creased, eyes glued to her laptop. You know, the average corporate scene. Next, Matthew… well, let’s just say Matthew is Matthew. Even if you tried, there was no explaining him.
There — two seats to my left, sat a woman ✨
She looked so perfect, and I scrambled to think of a better word for it. I recognized that vanilla scent anywhere; it followed me everywhere. Freckles dotted her almond skin like poppy seeds on fresh bread — warm and inviting. Her hazel eyes stirred something deep inside me, like chocolate melting — indulgent and tempting.
Wisps of hair darted across her forehead, delicate and alive in the train’s air. Black liner traced her stare without touching her elegance. She’d brushed on silver eyeshadow and blush — not a tinge too much, just enough. Her lips plumped with cherry gloss, and I wondered what they’d taste like.
Wired headphones — of course, wired — trailed from her lace camisole, styled so effortlessly, as she faintly bobbed her head to what I’d bet was Beabadoobee. Her expression was pensive yet calm, like an actress trapped on stage but performing anyway. Her thin brows, sharp in concentration, all the while zoned out on the window outside.
I studied her raison d’être silently, carefully. We didn’t meet. I only drank her in from afar. I wanted to drown in her perfume.
That’s when my stop came
She’ll never know she was the highlight of my Monday 🍁
