The cold morning breeze made us vulnerable, I suppose. Waiting, always waiting for the seven-thirty train, even after eight. I was supposed to be at work, not here; I had a meeting in thirty minutes. Maybe some conversation could pass the time, thought I. I stumbled over my words: "You remind me of someone" ...someone I used my brain added, automatically. Did I say that out loud? She looked at me inquisitively.

     "You remind me of someone I used to know." A firm save, the conversation had to follow. And there we sat, me spinning a tale from what was supposed to be a little conversation starter; her attentively listening aside me, asking about that girl who checked her watch with the same firm intent as her. A girl who flipped her hair back with the same casual, un-intended grace, passively smiling and focusing on something other than the minor catastrophe at hand. A girl that never could be.

     The train never did come that day, we went for coffee and cigarettes; I never called her back, a relationship could never be based on so insignificant a lie.

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