I don’t think anyone else can see you. Is that silly? But I’ve ridden the train every day to work and back, and you’re always there, reading a book in the corner. I’ve never seen you get on or off. I never see anyone else speak with you. You never look up. No one looks at you. Except for me. I always look at you, as though I cannot bare to look away.
I’ve ridden the train for two years now. You’ve never changed. Never once. I tried riding at different times. You were still there. Same spot. No one approached you, or sat beside you. I tried, once, to walk toward you but found myself at the other end of the train car whenever I got close. So I content myself to watch.
The only thing about you that changes is your books. At first they were all plain, black leather, but with different spirals of gold on the spines. Then, as I watched, those changed. There were titles in languages I didn’t know. So many languages. But one day, one day three days ago, I saw words I recognised on the cover.
Enjoying Your Trip? by Daily Rider
Two days ago, I got on the first train. I made sure I was the first aboard. There you were. I rode all day, for hours and hours. Other people were giving me strange looks for never getting off, but, they couldn’t exactly stop me. I was going to speak to you. I didn’t know how. Your book’s cover read:
Why Are You Staring? by Curious Observer
The last call came to get off the train. Everyone left but you. I stayed on the train. I stayed and stayed until someone saw me on the cameras I guess, and forced me to get off. They didn’t say a word to you. I didn’t mention you to them, I couldn’t find the words. I went home to think.
I brought a card with me yesterday. Not a book, just a greeting card, blank on the inside but outside there was the one phrase I wanted desperately to tell you.
I Love You
The author didn’t matter. The words didn’t matter. But I pretended to read the blank words, and I sweated, and I waited for some sign until I had to get off the train.
And today, today I see you holding a new book. A new book, with a blood red cover, and gold letters. It says:
What Is Love If It’s Blank Inside? by Ican Seethrough Yureyes
I think you’re having fun with me. But I don’t care. I’m filling this card with words, and so when I read it next time I’m on that train, you will see them, and you will know. I can’t help but love you. I’ve always loved you. I loved you from the moment you laughed in English class at the seat beside mine. I loved you when you cried at the movies when we went together. I loved you when you kissed me under a tree in your garden and you whispered how it was like a fairy tale, just as you had always wanted. I loved you when I heard you had slipped and fallen onto the tracks.
I miss you. I love you. I’m glad I still get to see you, even now, like this. You seem to be doing alright. I hope you’re enjoying your trip.
