She was beginning to hate the man because he had been in that seat since she had walked in. The seat she felt illegitimate ownership of. Simply because she hates standing through her journey. Just then he got up. Her day’s first analysis didn’t go wrong, she thought. She had expected him to get off at Chhatarpur. He got up at the next station. The discount is allowed. A minute or so after settling in, she noticed that the station had passed but the man was still there. And he remained until one station before hers. He made her morning by being so nice without an iota of expression of that favour.
And while he comfortably hung around, she noticed a guy sitting opposite her. Disheveled, unkempt, at least three days of not having shaved, exhausted, barely managing to keep his eyes open. But rather attractive, she thought. The Umbro bag by his feet, the Adidas shoes, a smart fleece, and a pair of jeans that she knew only looked good from a distance, added to the good looks. She did not realise she had been staring at him until his eyes suddenly popped open and looked straight into hers. She looked on for that extra second and then shied away, knowing he was still looking. After glancing through in both directions, conveniently skipping him, she looked back towards him a second time. His eyes closed again. Her now usual morning tiredness made both their body languages fairly similar. She watched on, admiring the perfect nose, the beard that she knew must feel soft, and the sleepy demeanour which looked like it was much deserved. The next thing she knew, he again caught her looking at him. It was funny this time. She thought of passing a faint smile, but could sense that he won’t react. He seemed dazed. She looked away. She did not want it to repeat a third time, but noticed from the corner of her eye that he was now looking at her. She also watched him watch her get up, pull on her bags, and walk out. She guessed that his eyes closed immediately after. And perhaps she’s the only one still enjoying the moment.
Or maybe he’s still thinking how her shirt did not match with her sweater. And she’s thinking, “damn, just this one day!”.