Transportation flutter

There is a rather good looking man who gets my train on a Tuesday morning. By some freak of nature we end up sitting next to or across from each other for our morning commute. This is my early morning thrill, he really is quite hansome, but in one of those incredibly boring sorts of ways. Still my heart flutters and it make me smile privately.

Normally on the train to work I jot things down in my moleskins. I have three, a week to an opening organiser, a day to an opening organiser and a reporter jotter. All have their own use and I use them accordingly. Hansom stranger looks on as I scribble down things I need to remember, my misshaped budget and thoughts that are in my head that are better off on paper so they can grow and expand.

On this Tuesday morning, there was no jotting. I was almost finished reading the book that had consumed me for the past few days and I was desperate to get to the end and see how it all came to a tidy, or not so tidy as it were, end. This story was defiantly not too told to unfold. I forwent jotting to read. Hansome Stranger seems disappointed that he couldn’t look over my shoulder and decipher my scrawl.

So much so that he spoke!!! He asked me if I left all my notebooks at home and offered me some paper and a pen. I was touched (I also must have looked like I my mind was racing and I had nothing to release my thoughts on to). He had grown fond of my jotting and I had become accustomed to his looking over my shoulder.

My friend use to have encounters with what we called Beautiful Stranger. Men who passed though her life for only an instant. The idea had my romantic side all in a fluster. Perhaps this is my chance to encounter my very own beautiful stranger…