The Most Imperfect Place

The encounter I had on the metro: I got on, intending to get off at the next station, but the moment I entered, a beautiful woman caught my eye. She had all the things I like: her outfit, the way she stood, her smile, her facial expressions, and her colour palette—especially her nails, even though I'm not a nail person.

I kept watching her while she spoke to her friend. Sometimes a person's first impression on strangers happens indirectly, like a player on his neighbourhood pitch being watched by a hidden scout in the stands. The difference is that the scout can easily approach the talented kid with a contract. In my situation, we were in a crowded, enclosed space, and I couldn't just approach her without worrying that it would look like sexual harassment.

Once I got off and the metro left, it ruined my day. I'd spent the previous weekend thinking that I had to approach at least one girl, and then I found the perfect one in the most imperfect place. I couldn't stop thinking about it all evening on my way home, imagining the possibilities.