Creative Writing, Flash Fiction

The Rush-Hour Crush

To the porcelain brown hair guy on the 17:36 train from Vauxhall to Kingston, I wish I had said something other than “y’okay” when you said sorry for touching my hand on the pillar. How about we make a second first impression?

(A little embarrassed) Sharon x

Sharon’s rush-hour–crush note appeared in the Metro. When she saw it she thought how awkward it would be if anyone recognised her. There wasn’t a picture, but there was writing and for Sharon writing was just as revealing as a picture. She smiled to herself, folded the paper and got in queue for the arrival of her train to work. It wasn’t much of a queue. There was two school children ahead of her. The taller one was holding the Metro open, on the page of her message. Had the porcelain guy seen it too?

*

After work she boarded the 17:36 train having completely forgotten that she had written a rush-hour–crush let alone having read it published in the paper. She managed to get a seat today, which was a rare happening. She turned on her blackberry and flitted through her emails.

‘Mark R wants to make contact,’ one of the emails said. She wondered for a moment whether it was spam and where they had managed to pick up her email address.

She opened it, and turned a deep crimson colour. She smiled, then grinned.
“Yea why not”, she heard someone with a deep voice say loudly but she didn’t realise it was directed to her.

“Yes. A second first impression might be called for, Sharon,” the voice continued. Her eyes shot open, wide. She dropped her blackberry on her foot. Awkward. As she lowed her self to pick it up, her eyes followed the long legs that belonged to the porcelain brown haired man, she now knew went by the name Mark.

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