When people have nowhere to turn, they just turn on each other.
So I turned away.
Humans are a strange species—we work jobs we hate to buy things we don't need, just to impress people we don't even like.
And the strangest of them all is me—someone who refuses to acknowledge the rules of a world I never asked to be part of.
Like any other day, I was at the metro station, waiting for my train.
I'm the kind of person who avoids parties, group hangouts—basically, people.
But she was different.
She was… special.
The train arrived. I got in.
And right opposite me—there she was, reading a book.
She's weird.
But in a good way.
Mysterious in an interesting way.
I usually light a cigarette at this point, but today... I didn't want to.
Not because of shame or willpower, but because somehow, she made the smoke feel unnecessary.
Not to sound like a stalker, but I know her favorite color, her favorite song, her favorite book.
She's so easy to read…
Yet impossibly hard to understand.
But today—today was different.
She looked up.
And she smiled.
Maybe she smiled at me.
Maybe she smiled at how pathetic I looked.
Who knows?
We've been riding the same metro for over a month now.
Just me, her, and the silence.
And this was the first time she noticed me.
After thirty-five minutes or so, she got off.
I lit my cigarette.
I'm like the smoke: I exist, I disappear, and I'm bad for your health.
I got off at the next station.
I think she noticed me.
I hope she forgets me.