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"Hello," I say. You've just sat down in the empty seat next to me on the train, your coat overflowing a little onto my lap.
"Hey," you say, and pull out your phone. On there, I can see that you've got some new messages from somebody. You scroll through them, a smile on your face. I look away then, feeling like I'm invading something I really shouldn't. I can hear your nails tapping slightly on your phone's screen, and the slight whistle in your breath that always seems to accompany everyone around this time of year. I look to the side - to you - and see that your ear has a little bit of wax left in it, and your bottom lip is red and picked at. Your hair is messy, like you didn't have quite enough time to sort it out or really care, and there are a few moles under your right eye that remind me of some constellations I once saw.
I feel like you've just caught me up and swept me along with you, you and all your little human imperfections that make you so beautiful, even if I've just met you. We've only shared two words, and yet I feel like it was something neither of us could ever really have avoided.
The red bit of string tied around my little finger gives a small tug, and I begin to wonder if it's connected to more than just me.
A little later, the train falls to a stop at a station I don't need to get off at, and it seems that you don't need to either. You stay sitting next to me, and I start to notice more and more about you. Just little things, yet they stand out in their ways of faults and flaws of irregularity and novelty.
We strike up a conversation, and the topics it follows dance around the two of us in many mocking ways, our eyes catching and lingering as our mouths move. I get a little lost in you, even if you're only a stranger on a train that I've just met.
The sky grows darker outside, more and more people getting off and less and less getting on. Soon, it's just us two on our carriage, words intertwining. As the train begins to slow at it's final station, our conversation also tapers off. But my eyes stay stuck on yours, and I don't think I know how much time has passed.
You start to stand up, and my heart nearly leaps right up out of my mouth for reasons that I almost know.
"Wait," I say, words rushed and trembling in a way that I don't want to acknowledge. I hold on to your arm, my fingers not able to wrap fully around it with your coat in the way. You look back at me, eyes full of something I just might understand. "Sorry," and I drop your arm. "I'm really very sorry," and I can't quite look you in the eye. "I think I've fallen in love with you. I really, really didn't mean to."
Silence reigns queen for a long moment, though it's a little ironic considering how oppressive it is.
But then your mouth drops open and your eyes grow large, surprise revealing itself in all it's unexpected manners, and oh, how I've been waiting for someone like you to come along after so long of trying to find you.
I've only know you for a little while, have held just a single conversation for who knows how long, and yet I feel like everything has suddenly gone from terrible to the easiest thing I could ever imagine. I feel like it's something magical that only you and me understand, if only a little.
You don't say anything to the words that found their way out of my mouth, but we walk together for a long time after that. We keep on finding each other in places we never thought we would, and as I slowly get to know you my heart just keeps on falling.
Over time, I start to feel like we begin to live for each other.
I pay close attention to your pinkie, and begin to notice that your shade of red looks just like mine, the string tugging at the same moments like our hearts beat all at once.