Double Vision :: Personal Narrative Writing

Double peck We met at Astor Place. I said hello, she said hi. Her face was the same as I remembered. It was a Sunday afterwardnoon in autumn, and the wind do her cheeks rosy. She smiled curiously. Looking ski binding, maybe it was less the wind and more the circumstances. It had been quite one-time(prenominal) since our last encounter, two months, if my memory served me.Shall we, I said leading the way. downcast the stairs of the subway station we passed through the turnstile, I first, then she. tubes no way for a good man to go down, rich man wont ride and the hobo he can drown.Waiting for the 6 train I began to fidget, as Elton baths lyrics bounced back and forth in my mind. She attempted to talk all over the roar of the uptown train. How was your summer? she loudly inquired. And I thank the master copyIs that what you really want to ask? I shouted back. for the people I have found.She turned her head and nodded, as the train rolled to a stop. The doors opened and t he people poured out, filling the platform. Her body backed into mine, and a faint, known fragrance swept through me. Time stood as the aroma lingered. A heartbeat later we were fighting our way through the entanglement. Entering the passenger car, we managed to find an empty seat.The smell of her hair. I remembered that, I remembered the morning after finding my face softly nestled in a take a breather of blonde, breathing her in. She had yet to wake, and the sun rising through her barred flatcar windows painted crisscrossing patterns on her exposed back.14TH STREETUNION SQUARE. THIS IS A BRONX BOUND 6 TRAIN, NEXT STOP 23RD STREET. The mechanical voice stole me back to the present. Gathering myself I apologized to her. Whatever for? she asked. Im not quite myself today, I, um, I seem to have lost my words I trailed make watching the child in the seat across from me wriggle in the arms of his mother, fighting for his freedom, the mothers face a visualise of exhaustion.Dont giv e it a second thought, sometimes its nice to be alone, alone with someone else, she said. Through the reflection in the window in front of me, I stole a discern at her face as she spoke those last words.