A Short Story

She came down the steps to the platform, rushing each step even though the train was nowhere in sight. Two men stood at the end of the stairway and as she passed, the smaller of the two asked, “Where did you go do yoga?”

She looked down at the bright pink yoga mat hanging at her side and responded, “Navy Pier,” not missing a beat. To her left, she recognized the round man in a t-shirt that was once white but now was glazed in a yellowish tint. His eyes, sad and droopy but with a voice that perks your ears to attention.

“When the night, has come, do-do-do, and the land is dark,” he sings. Once or twice she has given him money before, but as she reaches for her wallet she remembers she’s cashed out. She walks past him but stands within earshot.

The air pressure changes, sending a gust of wind through the platform. The first sign of an arriving train. Less than a moment later bright lights can be seen as deep rumble fills her ears. A group gathers at the door as the crowd rushes off and the new passengers wait to step on. Hoping the seat she finds remains her own, she places the mat on the seat next to her. As usual, she pulls out her book to pass the time. Page after page, stop after stop. Periodically, she looks up and gazes out the window as if to ponder the line she’s just read. Returning to the wave of words, she is submerged into a faraway land.

The train halts as it has for the last six stops. She feels the presence of someone taking a seat in the row before her. On she reads, until, in almost a whisper, she hears, “Tori?”

She looks up from the page, eyes wide, the color of melted chocolate. Her mouth parts slightly and her brow quickly furrows then relaxes. Her heart, confused, doesn’t know whether to speed up or slow down. Unsure of the last time she took a breath. Tori inhales deeply. She knows she hasn’t responded yet but doesn’t know where to start. What to think; what to do? Does she smile? Or yell? Kiss him, or slap him? Leave the train? It’s confusing to both love and hate someone at the same time.

She takes another breath since it seems her respiratory system has given way. She does this in an attempt to speak but still, words escape her. It’s him. Is she happy to know he’s alive or angry because he looks good and healthy?  His oval eyes exude maturity. His lips the same plush shape she had left them. His hair was different now. What was once a low cut had grown into a journey of locs lined perfectly around his heart-shaped face. Oh, what five years will do to a man. The corner of his lips curl as they begin to part and close again. It seems he had nothing more to say either. Would he apologize? Or go the more casual route and simply ask how I am?

The train jolts and suddenly Tori is breathing on her own again. “Next stop Cicero,” the train robot speaks to whoever seems to listen. She places her book back into her purse and looks around the train. The seat in front of her is empty. The woman two seats away is swiping furiously on her phone, and the homeless man on the end is in a deep slumber. It isn’t often she thinks of him, but when she does, she wonders where he is. How he is doing, and what she’d say if she ever saw him again. IF, she ever saw him again.