My first impression of you was that you had a bit of stubble – perhaps you were trying to grow out a mustache – and, not being one much for facial hair, it made me look back at my phone. Five stops later, I notice that you were wearing a really nice watch. Nothing flashy and not something that screamed expensive, but looked classy without being over the top. Then my gaze traveled down to your shoes, passing pressed shirt and slacks on the way. They were brown leather, slightly scuffed in a “worn everyday” kind of way. Your profile was pleasant. Definition without the chisel, Attractive but approachable.
The remaining three stops were spent with me surreptitiously checking you out. You were on Instagram the entire time, and probably noticed that I noticed. Or not – I can be inconspicuous when I want to. But you were by far the best looking guy on the train.
It was only when I got off the train that I thought of asking you out, perhaps for a coffee, but you were gone – you either don’t take the same connecting line as I do, or you just wasn’t at my end of the platform. So that was that.
Such fleet foot she has, devilish Destiny.