Around Monday morning, you came onto the brown line from the Clark/Lake stop and sat directly across from me. This was maybe the second time it happened? Quite the coincidence. You had tattoos on your left(?) arm and had an impeccable sense of style. I was wearing my clear acrylic glasses, as usual. I think we kept glancing at each other, or maybe it was just me.
I was too embarrassed to speak. Before I could do anything, you got off the train and exited through the turnstiles. I remember you paused and turned to look at me once again before the doors closed. I regret not saying anything. May we meet again and perhaps one of us will have the courage to say something.
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