Traingers

🚂-The-Coach-mate-🚂

☀️2:30 pm☀️

As I was busy looking at the scenery outside the glass pane, I didn't quite notice the presence of someone sitting right opposite to me. Exactly near the window seat. I am a naturally awkward person. I don't feel very comfortable, even when I have to mutter a greeting. Social anxiety, you see. I am always fearful of messing up in front of the stranger.

They might call me Ms. Perfectionsist with the perfect grades. Perfect mannerisms. Perfect aura. Perfect behaviour. Perfect life. But how can they say that when even imperfection has 'perfection' in it? The paradigm of perfection is a big myth in itself.

Nothing is ever perfect. Those beautiful butterflies have to flutter to stay high. Those fireflies lose their luminousity during day. That prince was once a frog. That beautiful swan was once an ugly duckling. That castle was a pile of bricks before. That book was just torn and crumbled pages once. Yet they're ethereal in their own sense now. One thing I've caught upto is that you don't have to be perfect because perfect is just a lucid way to say that you want things your way.

Finally curiousity got the best out of me and I took a glance at my supposedly, coach-mate for a whole 24 hours. The person, sitting in my coach was a guy. A guy of probably my age to be precise. It was already uncomfortable and to top it all, I am alone with a guy, I don't even know!

As I kept looking at him weirdly, he snapped his fingers in front of my eyes and said with, I admit, a really soothing smile, "Er, hello."

Leave it to me to mess up everything before it even starts.