You were reading Murakami and laughing quietly to yourself, wrapped in a bright green scarf. We kept making eye contact between stops, but I lost you in the Union Square crowd. Did you ever finish the book?
We exchanged shy smiles near the Van Gogh paintings and kept crossing paths through the galleries. I wanted to ask about your favorite artist, but lost my nerve—and then you disappeared into the Egyptian wing.
You spun me around at the Sunday salsa gathering, and I haven’t stopped thinking about your smile since. I wish I could remember more than just your moves—were you wearing a red hat, or was that all in my head?
I spilled my latte all over your sketchbook at the cafe on Bedford. You laughed and said it was “abstract art,” but I’d love to buy you a new notebook (and maybe another coffee).
We huddled under your umbrella while waiting for the bus, laughing awkwardly about the sudden downpour. I meant to ask your name but the bus came, and you disappeared into the mist. I owe you a coffee (and a dry sleeve).
You were reading “Norwegian Wood” with a yellow umbrella at your feet. Our eyes met when the train stopped over the Manhattan Bridge—I wish I’d said something, but my stop came too soon.
20.00 $
1 day agoMissed ConnectionsNewSell10 people viewed
You were reading Murakami and laughing quietly to yourself, wrapped in a bright green scarf. We kept making eye contact between stops, but I lost you in the Union Square crowd. Did you ever finish the book?
We exchanged shy smiles near the Van Gogh paintings and kept crossing paths through the galleries. I wanted to ask about your favorite artist, but lost my nerve—and then you disappeared into the Egyptian wing.
I spilled my latte all over your sketchbook at the cafe on Bedford. You laughed and said it was “abstract art,” but I’d love to buy you a new notebook (and maybe another coffee).
You were reading “Norwegian Wood” with a yellow umbrella at your feet. Our eyes met when the train stopped over the Manhattan Bridge—I wish I’d said something, but my stop came too soon.
You were reading Murakami and laughing quietly to yourself, wrapped in a bright green scarf. We kept making eye contact between stops, but I lost you in the Union Square crowd. Did you ever finish the book?
We exchanged shy smiles near the Van Gogh paintings and kept crossing paths through the galleries. I wanted to ask about your favorite artist, but lost my nerve—and then you disappeared into the Egyptian wing.
