She noticed him on the train. He always sat in the same seat, two seats ahead facing her. He wore jeans every day of the commute. She wondered what type of work he did. She would make guesses to herself, Architect, Web Designer, Trainer, she couldn’t tell. It was a game to her. He typed on his laptop during the hour long commute. It was one of those expensive ones that weighed like an ounce and was almost as thin as your credit card. She knew it cost him a pretty penny. Although he wore jeans they were nice, designer no doubt. And his shoes were expensive leather loafers. He wasn’t flashy, but his style was distinctive. No wedding band, he was single. She looked down at the gold band and diamond ring on her left hand. She was not single, which is why she only watched him on their commute.
He smiled at her occasionally, looking up from his work with his headphones on. She wondered what type of music he listened to, rap, she thought. Then she chided herself for stereotyping. He was the color of the dark chocolate she hoarded in her desk at work. His skin was rich and smooth. His head was bald and he wore a lone diamond earring in his left ear. He reminded her of an actor, but she couldn’t remember which one. He had never spoken to her on the train; perhaps he’d seen her wedding ring or didn’t find her attractive.
She wore a suit to work every day. She didn’t have to, but it made her feel confident and in control. She was the Vice President of Human Resources at her company. She felt her position was important and that her clothing should reflect that. Maybe he thought she was stuck up, she thought. Today she was wearing a navy blue skirt suit and a cream silk blouse. She loved the feel of silk on her skin, it felt like a caress every time she moved. Her legs were clad in nude pantyhose and on her feet were navy high heels. They were impossibly high and impractical for the office, but they made her feel sexy, so she wore them.
Despite her care in dressing today she didn’t feel important or sexy. She and Luke had been fighting all weekend. He wanted her to have a baby and she told him she wasn’t ready. He had said that she wasn’t a spring chicken anymore and that if she wanted to have children she better start now. She was only thirty years old; she had plenty of time she thought to herself. The truth is she wasn’t sure if she wanted to have children with him. Thinking about their fight, she had started to cry and hadn’t noticed until he came to her with a tissue.
“Rough morning,” he asked with concern in his eyes. She hadn’t even noticed him get up from his seat.
“You could say that,” she sniffled as she took the tissue he offered her.
“You’re too beautiful for rough mornings,” he said as he walked back to his seat. “Keep the tissue,” he mouthed to her now back in his usual spot.
“Thank you,” she said to him silently. It was the best thing that had happened to her in the last year.
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