By Andy Betz

The 820 Red Line was always late.  I stood waiting for the northbound train in vain.  No sense in calling ahead because my boss knows I will be late.  He rides the trains so he will also be late today.  Everyone in the city will be late today.

I languish in despair.

Until I see her see me.

She is on her side of the tracks waiting for her southbound train to (ostensibly) take her to work.

She will be late.

But she will not languish.

I smile.

She smiles.

I feel her despair at being without options.

So I offered her one.

I run down the tracks to the stairs which will cross the tracks taking me to her side.

I see two trains arriving, so I must be fast.

By the time I get to her side of the tracks, I cannot find her.  Perhaps the last train was her train.  Perhaps she gave up on me.  But I never gave up on her.

In the confusion, I saw her on my platform, while I stood on hers.

This time, I saw her first, seeing me, seeing her.

It was the same look she offered walking down the aisle.

Wearing that gown.  

Escorted by her father.

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Andy Betz has tutored and taught in excess of 40 years.  He lives in 1974 and has been married for 30 years.  His works are found everywhere a search engine operates.