Member-only story
The Girl in the Lavender Dress
Hers was a tell-tale heart.
I noticed the girl when she stepped aboard the train at the third stop. My eyes lazily flitted to her, ready to pass her by entirely with only a passing glimpse, but she wore a lavender mini-dress that snagged my attention. I felt confused by my reaction since it was early enough that my coffee hadn’t yet kicked in.
But, even as I continued to stare, she was oblivious to my attention. She looked down at her phone — a relic of the past with its flip-phone mystique — and seemed lost in her own little world.
I found myself hungry for the details of her: the soft curls of her brown hair, the smokiness of the eyeshadow around her eyes, the luscious curve of her mouth just asking to be kissed. I could imagine long hours just getting caught up in the all the little quirks that made up the puzzle of who she was.
In another life, I might have been the one to saunter over and start up a flirty conversation that might lead somewhere. But I kept to the back of the train, watching but not touching or edging into her universe.
I felt as if I reached out I would burst the bubble of her world. Then where would she be? She’d be someone’s ghost, and I would be untethered without a mystery to keep me curious.
