She saw his book first, long, thick, worn through. Bounded and covered by soft, dark leather. Then she noticed his hair. Messed up and untamed. Careless and free, deep brown with the light from the oncoming train shining through.
He was leaning against the other side of her metal pillar, one of the many supporting the subway station. Very clearly invested in the ongoing of whatever book he was reading.
He looked up from his book and laughed into the cool air. It echoed throughout the station, several pedestrians threw a look his way and a smile cracked through her stone set lips.
Then her breath caught in her throat. He was looking right at her. No he looked through her, his bright hazel eyes piercing deep into her soul. She couldn't bring her walls up fast enough to stop it. Panic rose up in her and she broke the tension, looked forward toward the train as its wailing became louder and approached them with unforgiving speed.
His glaze didn't break even as the roaring threatened to deafen the both of them. The sudden gush of chilled air and swarm of people honed her thoughts and she willed herself to focus again. The creaking as the wheels came to a halting stop won against the sound of distant conversations as each impatient passenger eagerly awaited to board. Everyone was in a rush to be somewhere to meet someone to do something.
But not her, she had no where to be no one to meet and nothing to do. She was alone in a world to busy to wait up for her, watching as the everyone else sped by.
The doors broke their embrace and welcomed her in, as well as those behind her. She did not hesitate as she entered the place she loved the most.
She took an empty seat next to an elderly woman, carefully reading a fresh newspaper, a habit lost in between the code of human life. . .
