Transmutation of a Stranger
I see her just about every morning as I walk to work. I go towards the train, as she is walking out of it. I go to work at her city, and she comes to mine. At first, it wasn’t her who drew my attention, but rather the older, diminutive, dark-skinned lady in front of her, who always carries a life-sized cutout of someone, walking towards some unknown destination—both to her and I. She also has a predictable routine, and maybe, a much more intricate background. But it’s the girl I always look at. She has baby blue eyes, and walks as if she’s lost in the woods. We have gazed at each other in passing a few times, and now, we’re both acutely aware of each other’s existence, amongst the chaos of a morning rush. At this point, we both know that the other exists, and nothing more, and that’s OK.
