a subway crush

subway crushes are a way for us nyc dwellers to start off our routinely dreary mornings on a high note. we’re perfectly aware that chances are we’ll never actually ever talk to our crush, but the fact that they’re there morning after morning continues to put that little spark of excitement in our stomach. My subway crush is tall, has brown shaggy hair, wears slip on vans, and a black jansport backpack. He gets on the stop after me, and rides the whole time with his nose in a book, like myself. I never want to blatantly stare, so I haven’t quite caught what book he’s reading [I’m currently on crime and punishment]. We get off at the same stop at the end of the line, and weave our way to the same exit of the busy station. At the top of the stairs we go in opposite directions. And then my day continues on without him.
I know I’ll never know anything about him other than what I’ve just mentioned. But I don’t think that I even want to know anything about him, not even his name. that might just ruin the beauty of a subway crush, bringing him down to a reality that won't live up to his idealistic presence. after all, nothing is as it seems.
all i'm saying is that it’s nice to have this innocent distraction in the mornings to make the motion of the “daily grind” a little easier.
So thanks, subway crush, for making my mornings a bit more pleasant.

In other news, you should probably read up about the 19th century weapon found in a whale, or.. you know.. about this.