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On the train this morning.
Sep. 10th, 2007 05:00 pmIn the morning, the commuter train is pretty evenly divided between the "cheerful and sociable" every-dawn-is-a-gift-from-God-Jesus-what-is-WRONG-with-them people and the "bitter and hateful" we're-actually-night-owls-forced-to-function-on-a-daylark's-schedule people.
Guess which group I belong to?
Still, people are generally friendlier down here than they ever were back in Jersey, so when I accidentally make eye contact, they don't jerk away their gazes as if I've flashed them, but rather, smile and nod.
It's kind of nice.
A guy sat down next to me, and the first thing I noticed was the chocolate-brown scrubs he was wearing. Mmmmm, chocolate. Made me hungry for a chocolate-frosted doughnut.
The next thing I noticed was just how . . . soft he looked.
I don't know how else to describe it. He was maybe twenty-one, on the tall side of six feet and skinny but with solid muscle beneath those baggy clothes. His hair was growing out of a close shave, and at a guess, he sported a neat jawline beard in an effort to look older. He was tanned, and there was a hole for an earring in the ear facing me, though he wasn't actually wearing visible jewelry. He wasn't eye-catchingly hot or anything like that, but had a gentleness about his features that made me give him several second looks.
Maybe that's just youth-- the slightly blurred look of edges not yet defined, the softness of features that haven't yet developed the habitual cynicism of age and urbanity.
It was sweet to see, and when he exited the train at University City, I amused myself by imagining him as a veterinary student, soothing and gentle with hurt and frightened animals.
Awwwww. I'm such a marshmallow!
Guess which group I belong to?
Still, people are generally friendlier down here than they ever were back in Jersey, so when I accidentally make eye contact, they don't jerk away their gazes as if I've flashed them, but rather, smile and nod.
It's kind of nice.
A guy sat down next to me, and the first thing I noticed was the chocolate-brown scrubs he was wearing. Mmmmm, chocolate. Made me hungry for a chocolate-frosted doughnut.
The next thing I noticed was just how . . . soft he looked.
I don't know how else to describe it. He was maybe twenty-one, on the tall side of six feet and skinny but with solid muscle beneath those baggy clothes. His hair was growing out of a close shave, and at a guess, he sported a neat jawline beard in an effort to look older. He was tanned, and there was a hole for an earring in the ear facing me, though he wasn't actually wearing visible jewelry. He wasn't eye-catchingly hot or anything like that, but had a gentleness about his features that made me give him several second looks.
Maybe that's just youth-- the slightly blurred look of edges not yet defined, the softness of features that haven't yet developed the habitual cynicism of age and urbanity.
It was sweet to see, and when he exited the train at University City, I amused myself by imagining him as a veterinary student, soothing and gentle with hurt and frightened animals.
Awwwww. I'm such a marshmallow!
