4288 results found in Missed Connections, United States

You held the door for me on Guerrero while balancing your pastries and coffee, your red scarf nearly blowing away. I was too shy to offer to sit together, but maybe this is my second chance?

We shared a seat on the N Judah as the fog rolled in, both laughing at the announcement glitch. I got off at Duboce, but I wish I’d stayed on—maybe you’ll see this before the next train comes.

We shared a seat on the N Judah as the fog rolled in, both laughing at the announcement glitch. I got off at Duboce, but I wish I’d stayed on—maybe you’ll see this before the next train comes.

Your helium balloon escaped just as you were snapping a photo by the Conservatory of Flowers. I tried to catch it, but all I caught was your smile—want to share a picnic instead?

You held the door for me on Guerrero while balancing your pastries and coffee, your red scarf nearly blowing away. I was too shy to offer to sit together, but maybe this is my second chance?

We shared a seat on the N Judah as the fog rolled in, both laughing at the announcement glitch. I got off at Duboce, but I wish I’d stayed on—maybe you’ll see this before the next train comes.

You knocked over your iced latte as I reached for the same sugar packet—our laughter echoed, then we both apologized at once. Before I could ask your name, your friend called you away. If you’re reading this, maybe we can try again—with lids this time.

You knocked over your iced latte as I reached for the same sugar packet—our laughter echoed, then we both apologized at once. Before I could ask your name, your friend called you away. If you’re reading this, maybe we can try again—with lids this time.

You knocked over your iced latte as I reached for the same sugar packet—our laughter echoed, then we both apologized at once. Before I could ask your name, your friend called you away. If you’re reading this, maybe we can try again—with lids this time.

You dropped your red glove near the telescope while searching for Orion’s Belt, and I handed it to you with a silly astronomy pun. You laughed, the city lights twinkled—we shared a moment, and then your friends pulled you away. If the stars align, let’s finish that constellation conversation.

We sat across from each other on the Red Line, both pretending not to notice the street magician performing tricks. You wore a Dodgers cap and smiled shyly when our eyes met. The train doors opened, and in a flash, you were gone—maybe we can catch the next ride together?

You knocked over your iced latte as I reached for the same sugar packet—our laughter echoed, then we both apologized at once. Before I could ask your name, your friend called you away. If you’re reading this, maybe we can try again—with lids this time.