I wrapped up taking the last batch of photos by sunset. Flipping through them, I made sure that had a scale displayed clearly next to the cracks in the metal. These were the subject of an assignment -- and hence, of my photos. The fading light made it impossible to snap any more decent ones. After a whole afternoon of suburb-hopping to find rusting metal, I figured it was time to head back.
I hopped on a bus, which in thirty minutes deposited me to the nearest train station on my line. From there I had a fifty-minute ride back to the station closest to my house. Woes of living in a big city and having no transportation of my own. I walked down to the end of the platform to avoid the crowds getting on and off the first couple of carriages. Not that there was much of a crowd anyway. Force of habit, then. The train pulled in at its allotted time and I boarded.
The carriage was almost empty. Every passenger on board was sitting by themselves. All of them were zoned out -- to a book, music, laptop, on a call and so on. I sat down on an empty four-seater section, because they're always the ones with a big window next to them, the view unhindered by another seat. I like staring out of windows when I'm on public transport. My head's always on a swivel. I look at people driving their cars alongside the train/bus, or catch glimpses of people coming down elevators at a station as the train pulls in. People watching is a great pastime - until someone catches you looking, and you avert your gaze lest they might think you creepy. But you
know
. You know that they know you were looking.
I put my earphones on and settled in for the ride. The train pulled out, heading into the direction of the night. White lights lit up the interior. We sped through the inner suburbs. The stations in the outer suburbs were spread much further apart from each other than the ones closer to the heart of the city. Between one of these stations, the world outside went dim, and the windows reflected the interiors. My gaze was caught by a woman sitting near a window, across the aisle and a couple of rows down from me.
She was probably gazing out the glass as well before the lack of lighting outside turned it into a pseudo-mirror. She was pretty, with a fair skin and South-East Asian features. Jet black hair flowing to a couple of inches under her shoulders, and bangs framing her face. I could tell she was no more than five feet five. She had on a down jacket, with denim shorts and sneakers underneath. She must've gone out during the day in a tank and shorts, but the evenings before the approaching spring were still too chilly to not carry an extra layer of warm clothes. Through the narrow spaces between the seats, I caught a sliver of a glimpse of toned legs.
I wanted her. In that moment. On that train. I wanted to touch her skin. Feel her hair between my fingers. Brush her lips against mine. Trace her features with my fingertips, from her eyelids to the line of her jaw. Breathe in her scent. I wanted to have her. Leave marks on her. Taint her. Capture her. Keep her. Like she was nothing more than a pretty face and a sensual body.
My phone was in my hand. I raised it up just over the level of the seat backs, and turned the camera on. Pretending to take photos of the seats, I discreetly looked around on the glass-reflected interiors to see if anyone was behind me or with a line of sight to the screen. Satisfied that no-one would catch me in the act, I started taking photos.
Snap.
The image frames my muse from afar, half obscured by the seats in front of her.
Zoom 1.5x.
Snap.
She's looking at her phone. Bangs of hair cover her forehead.
Zoom 3x.
Snap.
The bright screen dimly lights up the lower half of her face. Between the seat backs, a flash of her shapely legs.
Snap.
Snap.
Snap.
Got her.
The train slows as it approaches my stop. I get up and move towards the door. I look back and she's standing up as well. The train comes to a standstill and the doors open. I get out and muck around on my phone till she passes me by. I follow her down the stairs and into the parking lot, mentally documenting every contour of her legs and the undulation of skin. Her thighs ripple as they support her weight down the sloped entrance to the parking lot. The sinews on the back of her legs rock as each foot lands. The bands of tissue running down the side of her thighs flex. She's a tigress, a creature which evolution has pared down over millennia, until every muscle in its body is optimised and primed for preying. She is one of those people who are understated, yet undeniable, sexual creatures.
I wrench my eyes away as I turn towards my bus stop. On the ride back home, I keep flicking through the six photos I took of the woman on the train.
A couple of weeks passed by. The assignment I was working on, along with others, got graded and handed back. The nights got shorter and days got longer, and less cold. Heavy jackets and jeans got traded in for tee-shirts and shorts. Due dates for tests and reports piled up closer to the exams. I spent more time on the Uni campus than elsewhere. In one of the final days of the teaching period, I spotted the woman from the train again.
I was walking through the central building on the campus which housed student affairs, club headquarters, restaurants, cafes, lounges and a bookstore. I passed a group of college-girls by, absently glancing in their direction. One of the faces seemed familiar. Our eyes met for a second. Her face carried a grin from her ongoing conversation with her friends, and it morphed into a smile before we broke eye contact. I kept going, but slowed down. That was someone whom I recognized and who's been with me for a while. Yet I didn't know her. Strangely intimate, but distant.
Then I made the connection with the face on the train, from that night a month ago. I looked back and she was gone, along with her group. I started walking again, but with a bit less of an urgency than earlier. Something nagged at me.
Her smile.
It was the smile of a friend, or a person who's at least an acquaintance. The kind of smile you give someone when you spot them from a distance, but can't talk because you've got something else going on. The kind of smile that's beamed across a packed lecture theatre or exam hall. The kind that is underscored by mutual cognizance. Yet, beyond the photos on my phone -- which I'd forgotten about -- I didn't know the woman. I'd never come across her before, or since. Her identity, her background were total unknowns to me. Nor could I possibly fathom her knowing me. We'd never shared a class. I never saw her at the gym or the track. For all I knew before our chance encounter a minute ago, she didn't even go the same uni I did.
Telling myself I was reading too much into it, I shrugged it off.
Exams came and went. The university settled in for the long summer break. I'd secured work on a project, which had me and my colleagues travel to a small country town. After a couple of weeks, it evolved into lab studies, which meant we no longer had to go to our offices in the countryside, but instead run experiments at a facility within the big city. So I was back to commuting via public transport. With the facility two hours away, I had to take two buses, a train and walk a mile towards the end. The travel back home had me take a train into the city, and then another to the outer suburbs. The commute was tiring but the work was exciting. Also, the receptionist at the facility was a beautiful, cheery blonde who made the hectic morning commute melt away behind me.
The last day of our experimental work had me get to the lab at 8 AM and stay till 6:30 in the evening. It was gruelling work and I was on my feet the whole day. There was almost no-one in the facility by the time I signed out. I walked the return mile, then boarded a train to central station. The place was thronged by travellers and passengers, but the platform I was heading to was less crowded. At this time of the day, people usually head into the city -- to go out for a drink, catch a movie, maybe a live gig -- but not away from it. The weekday afternoon rush was over, and all the nine-to-fivers were back home by now.
I boarded the train and found a seat next to the windows, as usual. The train pulled out into the dusk, a silent worker starting its night-shift. We passed a couple of the inner-city stations before hitting the tunnel. The view outside turned black and the interiors reflected off the windows. I casually glanced down the seat rows. Empty for the most part.
"Looking for me again?" a silky voice floated in from the side.
I turned my head and there she was. The girl from the train, so many nights ago. She was bent over the back of my seat and had her mouth really close to my ear, before pulling back as I turned. She had the corners of her lips turned up in a mocking smile.
"... I'm sorry?" I blurted out.
"I'm flattered, you know, that even after all this time you still keep an eye out for me. I used to think I was very forgettable."
"I don't think I'm the person you're looking for."
