Hello Stranger

Thanks, romance novels, for your contributary part in that.

The next morning I was petrified all over again as I made my way through that train carriage, scared shitless that the stranger wouldn’t be there. I was feeling this crazy horrible flutter about how that was it, I was doomed, even though I’m usually the most optimistic person on the planet, and always have been.

I’d been telling myself, as I galloped my way towards the station, that it was okay if he was gone, and if I never saw him again, because my life was busy and full, right?

Right?

It wouldn’t matter if I never saw a stranger again that I didn’t know, right?

Right?

I was lying to myself. It may have been stupid, and based on nothing at all, but I was lying to myself.

It really would matter if I never saw that stranger again that I didn’t know.

So, it was just as well that he was sitting there on the train that morning – a whole day and night after driving myself crazy by stewing it over and over and over.

It floored me, for real. Even after one little day, it knocked me sideways with this crazy rush of relief, like the whole train lit up around me, just to see him sitting there.

Holy fuck, thank you, universe! Thank you! I’ll owe you for the rest of my whole damn life!

He was sitting in the same spot, and had his grey suit on with a dark burgundy tie, and he looked great – his beard its usual pattern and his salt and pepper hair flicked in just the same spot.

My heart was racing harder than I’d ever felt it, and my fingers wouldn’t stay still they were shaking so hard.

“Hello,” I said, and it was stupid. It sounded stupid. A stupid word from a mouth that must have been grinning harder than the Cheshire cat in a catnip shop.

“Hello,” the stranger said, and his voice was the same, but his smile was brighter than before. Just a tiny fraction brighter.

He held up his cover.

Fahrenheit 451.

I held up mine. Black Beauty.

This time he said something. He really said something.

“Horses owe a serious karmic debt to Anna Sewell.”

My answer was doofus, I could barely get my words out.

“They sure do.”

God, universe. Why am I such a moron?

Three stupid words.

All the things I’d imagined saying to that man, in that spot, and I said those three stupid words when I got my first real chance to say something good.

Just like that, the chance was gone. He turned his attention back to his novel and the silence returned.

I didn’t know what to do. Black Beauty was a blur of words on a blur of pages, and I wanted so much more.

That’s when I knew it was crazy, but I couldn’t deny it to myself, not anymore.

Hello stranger just wouldn’t cut it. Not when I felt like this.

Eastworth and Newstone and Churchley zoomed past, and I barely even noticed them. There was only him. Sitting there. Flicking the pages of Fahrenheit 451.

And then it happened.

Harrow. The next station is Harrow.

No.

No.

NO!

I couldn’t do it. Not anymore.

I couldn’t walk away from that train and risk that pang all over again.

So, I waited. I paused, not knowing what I should do. I needed to rush to work, but I couldn’t. I stood up slowly and put Black Beauty under my arm, but I was dithering, stalled on the spot as he closed his novel and looked at me.

“Have a nice day, Chloe.”

Still, I waited, dithering. Hovering like a fool.

Until he put Fahrenheit 451 into his briefcase and got up from his seat, and I could hardly believe it, that this could be his stop too. But it was his stop. I moved down the aisle and he was right behind me, I could practically feel his presence.

I shot a glance at the train door and he gestured me to keep on going, a gentleman with that same polite smile on his face as I stepped off the train and onto the platform. But I couldn’t race off, not anymore. I just couldn’t do it.

I walked slowly. Every step, I felt like a clutz. And he followed.

He was behind me, and I could feel it, walking down the same streets as I was, only a few steps behind. I kept hanging back, keeping my footsteps so steady when they’d usually be a gallop.

Nothing about that morning felt steady, though. Not one single thing. My breaths were racing and my heart was too, and I so much wanted to turn around and ask him where he was going. Please, universe, I just want to know where he’s going.

But I didn’t need to.

The turning for Harrow District came up ahead, and he was still behind me. I started crossing the car park over to main reception, and he was still behind me.