You stood by the doors near Union Square, umbrella dripping, headphones in, and we exchanged a knowing smile as the train jolted. I got off at Astoria-Ditmars, but I wish I’d asked if you were heading my way.
20.00 $
23 hours agoMissed ConnectionsNewSell3 people viewed
You were reading a battered copy of “Catcher in the Rye” and smiled when I dropped my coffee on my shoes. I got off at Greenpoint and you disappeared into the crowd. Let’s try meeting above ground next time.
20.00 $
23 hours agoMissed ConnectionsNewSell3 people viewed
You stood by the doors near Union Square, umbrella dripping, headphones in, and we exchanged a knowing smile as the train jolted. I got off at Astoria-Ditmars, but I wish I’d asked if you were heading my way.
20.00 $
23 hours agoMissed ConnectionsNewSell3 people viewed
You stood by the doors near Union Square, umbrella dripping, headphones in, and we exchanged a knowing smile as the train jolted. I got off at Astoria-Ditmars, but I wish I’d asked if you were heading my way.
20.00 $
23 hours agoMissed ConnectionsNewSell2 people viewed
We reached for the same Bukowski book, then compared favorites for a while among the stacks. I chickened out before asking if you’d ever want to get coffee and talk more poetry. If you read this, let’s try again?
You bumped into me near the kombucha stand, and my tea went flying. You apologized profusely, bought me a new one, and told me, “It was your favorite, right?” I was too flustered to say yes—or get your number.
You wore yellow boots and offered me half your umbrella as we waited for the Q train at Union Square. We laughed about how the city smells like wet pretzels in the rain. The doors separated us—wish I’d asked your name.
You kept dropping your book, and I kept handing it back. We exchanged shy smiles as the train jolted between 14th and 86th. I got off before I could ask your name—maybe we can finish the chapter together?
You wore yellow boots and offered me half your umbrella as we waited for the Q train at Union Square. We laughed about how the city smells like wet pretzels in the rain. The doors separated us—wish I’d asked your name.
We reached for the same Bukowski book, then compared favorites for a while among the stacks. I chickened out before asking if you’d ever want to get coffee and talk more poetry. If you read this, let’s try again?
You bumped into me near the kombucha stand, and my tea went flying. You apologized profusely, bought me a new one, and told me, “It was your favorite, right?” I was too flustered to say yes—or get your number.
You kept dropping your book, and I kept handing it back. We exchanged shy smiles as the train jolted between 14th and 86th. I got off before I could ask your name—maybe we can finish the chapter together?
