They boarded the train as if they knew each other. They looked at one another as if they had been long lost friends – or at least wished to be.
As I studied each face, I was positive they had never seen each other before, yet they shared an air of similarity but a fog of differences.
One was resolute and calm; his dark steady eyes were fixed on the other’s confused and distraught face; thick, blonde, curls brushing his brows. His intense hazel eyes darting, every which way. While he was wringing his hands, nervously, the other intently watched him, analyzing his thoughts and movements.
42nd Street. Neither got out.
They stood across one another in perfect alignment, as though an invisible force was thrusting them towards each other yet ripping them apart.
Through their faces it was evident they shared the same thoughts and problems – but they did not desire to. They seemed to understand each other, to speak silently. As though something was floating from ones lips to another’s ears.
33rd Street. Neither got out.
One hand tightly clenched upon the pole. The other hanging free. Then suddenly the clenched hand relaxed and dropped to his slender side. His companion scratched his elbow and curved his lips ever so slightly.
28th Street. My stop.
I got out and left the two silent friends to continue their journey, thinking alone yet standing alone.