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But no one waiting for a someone.Or so I thought. I honestly missed him in my first and second pass of the people around me. It was only the flickering of the shadows from the departing train that caught my attention. There, at the end of the platform next to one of the brick columns was a man standing with a briefcase in hand. Not a strange thing on its own, considering that others were also standing still, presumably waiting for the next train. But unlike the others, this man wasn’t leaning against the column tired after a long day. He wasn’t staring at his phone or the dark tunnel in anticipation of the next train. His body was half turned towards the platform but his face was angled toward me. At this distance and with the lack of light, I couldn’t make out his exact expression but I knew he was looking at me. The second I realized that this man was the schmuck I was waiting for was the second he started moving toward me. He was wearing a well cut suit that framed his body, and. My flashlight cuts through the night to find branches, brambles, and the ever elusive hem of her dress as she skips ahead, showing the way to some secluded spot she assures me is something special. Her words, mostly. She slows up ahead, twirls once, then stops. She’s finding it. We must be close. I pick up my pace, narrowing the gap between us, and she skitters off again just as I’m close enough to reach out and touch. The trees clear, and the brush beneath our feet turns to solid stone. At least, solid stone up until the edge, where the rock face drops ten feet into a lake. She stands at the cliff’s edge, so close her toes almost curl over. Breathless, chest heaving, she looks back to me, her grin stretching from ear to ear. ‘What do you think?’ The moon reflects in the lake, making it a study in black and white and blue. The sounds are deafening, the sounds of the city stripped away, amplifying the tiniest rustle of leaves or the intake of her breath into shouts that cut through.
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