Caught

I got myself caught between nine and ten. Between the second and fifth wagon, somewhere amidst the smell of hairspray and wrists turning to check on Time. There, with a bioquemistry book in one arm and grasping a tube with the other, I stood.

It was one of those days, the kind where nothing goes as planned. I was, as usual, running late. My Rue 21 perfume was still clinging to my nose and got mixed with that of man that hadn’t showered making my stomach flinch. The wagon doors opened and about eight or ten persons came in. As I was to apply my wine colored lipstick a robust woman tripped and pushed me sideways, making me draw a bloodlike line across my cheek. As I could I managed to pull out a tissue from my handbag and clean my face. The lipstick fell to the floor and rolled over a girl’s backpack. I picked it up as best I could. Deep breath. Fixed my hair and stood firm as the woman in high heels and purple flowered skirt made her way out of the crowd. More people came in and pushed me against the doors. I looked up to the plastic window. With a backpack hanging from his right shoulder and a loose sweater, he stood. The doors had closed inches before him, leaving him to wait for the next train. His lips moved, and I read them as they said “Hi”. I hiyed him back. His lips drew something similar to a smile. I giggled and looked away, but the train didn’t restart its march immediately. I stared again. He no longer smiled. I, then, became serious. Instead, he drew his hand to the window. His eyes flew from me, to his hand, and back to me. No thoughts crossed my mind…my hand seemed to have life of its own and left my side to touch the plastic window. I stared at my hand…I stared at his, then into his deep brown eyes. A noise came from somewhere far away and without any warning I started moving. My hand refused to the leave the window. His eyes followed mine. Then, slowly, his hand returned by his side.  

I got myself caught between nine and ten. Between the second and fifth wagon, somewhere amidst the smell of hairspray and wrists turning to check on Time. There, with a bioquemistry book in one arm and with a hand leaning over a window, I stood.