She stood at the end of the line, patiently waiting to get a ticket to aboard the train. He was right behind her. She has had a rough day. He has had a rough day. Safe to say, both wanted to get home as quickly as possible. She was finally at the end of the line and purchased a ticket for Shaw Boulevard. He did the same thing. She boarded the train and sat down. He followed suit. It was unusually empty. Not empty enough to creep her out, but it was emptier than usual. He thought nothing of it, just wanting to get home and get this day over with. They have yet to lock eyes or even look at each other. They weren’t alone there were 3 other people in their carriage, an old lady, a student and a man in a business suit who has fallen asleep. They still have yet to lock eyes. They reached the first stop. They barely noticed, until a raunchy looking bum (their thoughts not mine, I, the narrator, don’t judge based on physical appearances thank you very much). They were staring. They’ve both seen a few bums, but not quite like him.
He, the bum, sat next to her. He reeked of alcohol, trash, dust and smoke. He doesn’t know where he is or why he is there. He sat next to the girl, because he thought she was pretty. He didn’t say a word. He fell asleep immediately. He was very high. He likes to sniff rugby. He thinks of it as an escape from his failed life. He never imagined he would fall this low. He doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know where he’s going. He’s not much different from the most of us. She, the original girl (I, the narrator, think that I have to do this for our slower readers. I care.), was disgusted and thought that the bum was pretty creepy. She moved a bit closer to him (the first guy, I care about you guys). She locked eyes. She thought he was cute, not that cute, but cute enough. She didn’t think much of it.
He, the original guy (the bum is fast asleep now guys, remember?), locked eyes with her for a moment. He hasn’t noticed this pretty girl like he usually would. He usually liked ogling girls, he was in a bad mood today and focused on his music, well, you know, until they locked eyes. He thought she was a solid 10. He liked her face (proportional), her eyes (wide and bright brown), her skin (as nice as a girl could have), her body (not perfectly sculpted, but good enough) and her personality (he had no idea, but he thought she’d be nice). He didn’t know what to do.
The man in the business suit was drunk and was dreaming of prostitutes and cocaine, not that far from real life. The old lady was going home after a few trips to different doctors, something that has been more and more necessary as she grew older. The student was tired from school work and was having problems with his social life, he was awkward and introverted, but he wanted to love and be loved. The three of them left on the 4th stop.
They only had to go through one more stop to reach Shaw Boulevard. They only had around 30 minutes left in the company of each other. They didn’t have iPods or music players to keep them company. They both left them somewhere, probably at home, they’re not sure. They have looked at each other a few times. They both glanced to check the other out. They were thinking that the other looked more and more attractive with each passing second. They didn’t know what to do.
She wasn’t sure if he should talk to him. She thought he was a “stud muffin” (again, not my, the narrator, words). She was scared. She thought that he could be a criminal of some sort. She was paranoid. She also wasn’t sure if she should make a move. She didn’t think guys like girls who made the first move, and she always thought that that was the guy’s job. She was very much subscribed to classic gender roles, except the housewife thing, she liked her job. She was scared to make the first move. She did nothing.
He was scared. He wasn’t very confident. He thought he was out of her league. He thought she was too pretty to waste time with him. He also didn’t think that talking to a girl in the darkness of night on a train was the best way to gain the trust of a woman. He thought the opposite (if that wasn’t obvious enough). He liked her face and wanted to know her, that he was sure of. He wasn’t sure if she would respond well to a stranger, much less at this time of the day (or night, whatever). He did nothing.
They reached their stop. She did nothing. He did nothing. They did nothing. Nothing happened.