He hustled his way to the train station. The last half mile had turned from his usual brisk walk to a trot and finally a full fledged sprint when he saw the 7.39 in the distance, 2 minutes earlier than it was supposed to be there. Clutching a stitch in his side and panting heavily, he finally made his way to one of the cars and queued up behind a crisply dressed woman boarding the train with the poise of a geisha, her manicured hands holding an expresso while an expensive looking watch sat neatly on her wrist. He felt a slight bout of dizziness from the sudden burst of perfume surrounding her, and managed to hoist himself onto the train as it started slowly chugging out of the station. Gathering his wits, he made his way through the aisle and slumped into an empty seat near the window. He could feel all that alcohol from last night in his system, giving him a nausea that had been aggravated by that awful perfume. The gentle rhythmic movements of the train didn't help and he closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the disturbing feeling. He cursed himself for succumbing to that last round of drinks last night, but knew he couldn't have helped it. His little bro was to get married on the weekend and they had been celebrating his bachelor's - cards, stripper and the works. The hangover would ruin his day today, he could feel it.
He looked around aimlessly and his eyes rested on the girl sitting across from him. She was fragile, her pale skin revealing the veins underneath, her wispy white hair tantalizingly brushing her face, teasing, dancing in the wind. She seemed oblivious to the annoyance it would cause to a normal person, and casually brushed them off her face once or twice as she continued to stare wistfully out of the window. She wore clothes one size too loose, torn sneakers and a lot of rings. There was something very sad about her eyes and he felt suddenly powerfully drawn to her, the enigma overwhelming him. He had just opened his mouth in an attempt to make conversation when a huge guy with an army cut and heavily tattooed arms came and sat in the seat next to her, and started speaking to her in what he guessed to be Russian. He had a thick voice and an unmistakable surliness. She responded to whatever it was that he had said with a half-hearted smile, which never reached her eyes. He didn't seem to notice the lacklustre of that smile and got busy with something on his cellphone. She started to turn her gaze back outside the window but on the way, her eyes met his, catching them right in the act. She seemed to have just noticed him sitting there looking at her and seemed harshly unperturbed by his eyes that held a hundred questions in the moment. Then unexpectedly, she gave him the faintest of helpless smiles and returned to her spot outside the window, this time evidently (to him) conscious of his gaze. She shifted slightly in her seat and fidgeted with her fingers, all too subtly. She chanced the slightest glance in his direction and quickly looked away when she saw him still looking.
He was mystified, transfixed. And helpless. He finally looked away, and the wave of nausea hit him again. He had almost forgotten about it. As if doing him a favor, the train slowed down that very moment and slowly chugged to a stop. There was a flurry of people making their way out and surly guy and she joined them. He looked at her, trying not to look too longingly. She wasn't looking as she tried to heave a bag from the overhead compartment. Her man finally hoisted it down for her and held her hand, ushering her out of the train. She looked back and gave him a fleeting glance, and proceeded to alight from the train delicately, and was gone with a waft of wind through that wispy white hair.
