Windswept

2 - Reid

Reid

New York, United States

I saw her for the first time a week ago.

The wind was brutal that day, and her hair kept blowing across her face. I only caught a glance before someone bumped into my shoulder and nearly knocked me down. I only caught sight of her retreating back disappearing into the subway station. She was pretty—that's all I remembered thinking.

And now today, by chance, I saw her again.

I'd been sitting for ten minutes before she came and took a seat across from me. I couldn't believe it. The chances of seeing the same person in New York City twice in the same week are less than none.

Initially, I looked over just to see who was there, and it was her, already staring at me. It wasn't my fault I was having a bad hair day, but maybe it was worse than I had thought. But then I remembered I had my hood on, so that couldn't be it. There was no way I could just stare back, so I tried to give her a smile. I had never been good at smiling, but I attempted one anyway. One side of my mouth turned up . . . I think.

I don't think it worked.

When she looked away, I knew it was a lost cause, because at first glance, there were some immediate differences between us. Bluetooth earbuds were in her ears and she glanced at her phone often, whereas I didn't even own a phone. From the bulkiness of her bag, I could tell there were schoolbooks hidden inside. I was a dropout.

I could count on one hand how many people knew I existed, and it was fewer than four, one of them being a best friend who was barely ever around. And another who was like a half brother, but I rarely saw him either.

The train came to a stop.

I glanced over to see her leave. As the doors shut, I had already accepted that I would never see her again, but something happened that I wasn't anticipating. I expected her to keep walking, never to think of me again—after all, I was just a stranger on a train.

Instead, the girl stopped on the platform and turned back to look at me. It was the most unexpected thing, and in my nervousness, I gave her one last feeble attempt of a smile, so she knew I saw her. The train lurched forward, and I lost sight of her as the tunnel swallowed me.

The lights flickered, and with a glance to her empty seat, I saw a hat lying there. Had it been there before? Was it hers? I couldn't remember if she was wearing one when she sat down.

I made a split-second decision. Besides, I had nothing else to do. Hell, I was riding the train because I had nothing else to do. It was either ride the subway more or roam the streets—decisions, decisions.

The hat now gave me a reason to say something to her. It gave me a reason to see her again and, in that moment, I knew I wanted to see the stranger from the train. Even if just to learn her name.

I grabbed the hat, closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was standing on the subway platform the train had just departed from. People stood around, waiting for the next train to arrive. Of course, no one noticed me appear. They never did unless they happened not to be looking at their phones or staring at the empty space I suddenly came to inhabit. I pulled the strap of my bag over my head and across my chest, then started for the exit. My eyes scanned the crowd frantically as I moved, then I caught sight of the girl at the top of the escalator.

I started after her, but with too many people in front of me, I had to wait my turn to go up the escalator. She got up to the street before I did, and then I had to fight through a group of school kids before I caught sight of her turning the corner. I quickened my pace to catch up.