wheel of fortune

I was not expecting to see you that day, riding the subway, sitting across from me.

You are one of the only things capable of truly surprising me.

I tried not to stare at you. I nervously tapped my foot. I pretended to read. I acted like I wasn’t eavesdropping when someone with red hair leant in close to you and said, “This feels like it’s taking forever. How many more stops?”

And you said, “Only a few more darling. My place is on Orchard Street.”

Then you looked at me while the stranger bit your ear. You were surprised that neither of us looked away. You tilted your head to the left.

I did not smile. I did not blink.

A group of four men boarded the train in Union Square and cooed a doo-wop harmony. Your suitor grew restless and placed a hand on your cheek to turn your attention their way. Your lips swung to the right, your eyes stayed on me.

I wanted to cry for a few reasons at that moment. Instead I held my gaze. I wanted to be sure. That’s when the train screeched to a halt.

“We’re here!” cheered your blue shoed companion tugging you away from me. Only you hesitated.

“Do I know you?”

I said nothing. But for the first time that day, a smile spread across my searching countenance.

My luck was changing.