The Boy On The Train

I remember it clearly, as if the moment was still here. Sat opposite, writing frenetically in a notepad. Every now and then raising his eyes, those breathtaking eyes, shyly. An insecure smile spreading on the soft lips, before continuing his art. A desire to ask him, question him, what about me was so interesting it could be put into writing, rose. Though just like him, I was sat there watching, writing frenetically in a notepad.

 

The Boy On The Train

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