True Love?

On a packed train this morning I found myself face to face with an incredibly beautiful woman. I couldn't stop looking at her, and whenever she'd catch me looking I'd do my patented "shyly look down, demure and vulnerable puppy dog look while pouting my perfect lips" look. As the the train rolled under the East River on to Manhattan I played out a romance in my own head that culminated with us telling our grandchildren about how we met as strangers on a crowded train; in between now and then there were days and nights of passion and true love like you read about in paperbacks with shirtless dudes in silk pants on the cover. We were meant to be together, that's why were placed with our faces inches away from each other on this exact train. All the while, of course, rocking my "I'm so shy and sensitive" look at her.

She got off the train before me. As she walked away, in my head she was about to turn around and give me a glance that said "come with me." What happened instead was me frowning at her from behind with a look that said "damn baby, you could've told me about those cankles. Yeesh."