Finding Narrative

On the subway. I thought I knew their story at a glance.

They were in love. They weren’t holding hands or exchanging glances, but her posture – one shoulder dipped gracefully towards him, her head at a contemplative angle, her demure eyes and slight smile – belied intimacy. He sat beside her quietly, his body slightly turned towards hers. I watched them surreptitiously. To see this graceful older couple whose love seemed to glow even in that most incongruous of places – the Japanese subway – gave me a wonderful sense of pleasure. I wanted to tell them, you are beautiful, your love is beautiful.

And then the train stopped. She stood, and stepped from the train into the crowd. They did not speak a greeting, never even looked at each other. He turned his head away, as though averting his gaze, and the train plunged once more into the dark tunnel.


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