The Platform Between Us

A few months after moving to Montreal to start a new life in Canada, the city still felt like a puzzle I was slowly learning to solve. I wandered its streets alone, figuring out the systems, the subway, wondering when my daily life would finally feel normal.

One day, I was on the metro, completely lost in one of my favourite suspense novels by James Patterson. I was so deep in the story that I almost missed the fact that someone was staring at me. Uncomfortable under the weight of a gaze, I finally looked up, and I saw him.

Tall, cute, not overly muscular, not too skinny, with brown hair, dark eyes, and light skin. I smiled without thinking, hoping to show I was open to conversation, but he quickly looked away, almost annoyed. I thought, “Alright, not interested. Back to my book.”

I tried to focus on my reading again, but the feeling of being watched quickly returned. I glanced up. Same guy. Same quick look-away.

Something about him seemed interested, but shy. I caught myself staring at him, wondering who he was, imagining, just for a second, that he could be “the one,” and inventing a script for a How I Met Your Father episode.

This time, when our eyes met, I smiled again and he finally smiled back.

My stop came faster than I wanted. It was just the beginning of a potential approach, but I didn’t have a choice. My new friend was waiting for me. The train stopped, the doors opened, and before I could even stand up, I saw him stepping off. It was a connection stop for him, too.

We ended up walking side by side, both staring straight ahead like we were on a national security mission. The “what if” feeling got too strong to ignore. I pulled out my earbuds, gave him another smile, letting him know I was open to talking. But I wasn’t going to do all the work; I was used to men approaching, not me approaching them.

He stayed quiet, smiling all the same.

We finally reached the escalators. I was in front, and he was right behind me. I thought, Okay… one last chance. We looked at each other again, but neither of us spoke.

I decided to let it go. I turned one way, he went the other. We ended up face-to-face again, across the tracks, the platform between us. I looked straight at him and shrugged, as if to say, Seriously?

He put a hand to his forehead and looked down, clearly realizing he’d missed his chance. His train pulled in, he got on, and gave me one last look through the window before disappearing.

I sighed. I knew I’d never see him again.