206 results found in Missed Connections, Illinois

You were singing softly to yourself on the Blue Line Monday morning, headphones in, oblivious to the world. I was the guy smiling with the travel mug, hoping for the courage to compliment your voice before my stop at Logan Square.

You were singing softly to yourself on the Blue Line Monday morning, headphones in, oblivious to the world. I was the guy smiling with the travel mug, hoping for the courage to compliment your voice before my stop at Logan Square.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.

You shared your umbrella with a stranger (me) when the skies opened up and my meeting was two blocks away. I never caught your name, but I’d love to buy you coffee and return the favor—minus the rain!

We stood in line together at Portillo’s after the Sox game, debating whether cake shakes are genius or gross. Your laughter is still stuck in my head—I chickened out before I could ask for your number.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.

You shared your umbrella with a stranger (me) when the skies opened up and my meeting was two blocks away. I never caught your name, but I’d love to buy you coffee and return the favor—minus the rain!

We stood in line together at Portillo’s after the Sox game, debating whether cake shakes are genius or gross. Your laughter is still stuck in my head—I chickened out before I could ask for your number.

To the curly-haired woman reading "The Alchemist" across from me on the Blue Line last Thursday morning—our eyes met when the train jolted and you smiled. I wanted to ask about your favorite book, but my stop arrived. If you see this, maybe we can swap book recommendations in person.