地下鐵遇見愛
本期主題
作者：by Maeve Lahey
My morning commute on the subway usually followed the same pattern—keep your head down， your nose in a book， and try to survive the crowds. So when I sensed someone looking at me I felt annoyed. I looked up to see a tall， attractive man， but his eyes weren’t focused on me—he was staring into space， with headphones on. Among all the businessmen， his casual outfit of a grey woolly hat， navy coat and jeans stuck out.
I wasn’t in the habit of noticing men on the subway—of course， you see people come and go， but no one had been so memorable before. As the weeks went by， I began to search him out—he was so tall I could spot him by looking for his head above the crowd. It helped that we were creatures of habit and both headed for the front of the first carriage.
Twice a week I’d see him and always when I was running late. After the third time， he looked back， and from then on we would exchange glances but nothing more. At work I’d mention to my friends if I had seen my “subway crush”， but I didn’t let myself 1）fantasise about him—the chances of us ever actually talking， let alone living happily ever after， were so remote that it would be foolish to dream. But I looked forward to seeing him， and was glad when I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
Then disaster struck. He disappeared. Weeks went by without a sighting and I felt darker and darker. After a month， I vowed that if I ever saw him again， I had to say something； it might be my only chance.
On a wintry Monday last January， I was 2）stranded on the platform， knee-deep in snow， fretting because I hadn’t managed to get on to the packed train， when he materialised next to me.“I’ve got snow in my pants，” he said and did a 3）shimmy. We both laughed and then began to chat. As we boarded the next train， I was aware that everyone around us was 4）eavesdropping， so I felt self-conscious but also thrilled. We had lots in common and the conversation flowed. The only problem was that he was giving me all the right signs that he was interested but he didn’t ask for my number. As my stop approached， I realised it was now or never—I had to do something. The train pulled in， and I shoved my business card in his hand and leapt off.