A Beautiful Strange Girl in the Metro

A Beautiful Strange Girl in the Metro

The metro was packed as usual—shoulder to shoulder, every commuter glued to their phones or staring blankly into space. I was just trying to survive another ride home when she appeared.

She wasn’t just beautiful; she was... peculiar. Her hair was dyed a shade of pink that made you wonder if it glowed in the dark. Her outfit was a mix of modern chic and something that belonged in a fantasy novel—boots that looked like they could kick down a castle door, a flowing scarf that sparkled faintly, and an oversized backpack covered in badges, including one that read: *"Ask me about my laser cat!"

She sat down across from me, pulled out a notebook, and started scribbling furiously. I tried not to stare, but it’s hard not to notice someone like that, especially when they keep muttering things like, “No, no, the dragons wouldn’t fit in the suitcase.”

Just as I thought I could blend into the background, she looked up and locked eyes with me.

“Do you believe in parallel universes?” she asked, completely serious.

“Uh…” I stammered. “I believe in getting off at the right station.”

She grinned. “Good answer. A practical skeptic. I like that.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. “Thanks?”

Before I could say anything else, she leaned forward and whispered, “I think I’m being followed by someone from a parallel dimension.”

I immediately regretted making eye contact. “That sounds… intense?”

“Right?!” she said, slapping her notebook shut. “They’ve been tracking me ever since I accidentally opened a portal in my kitchen last Tuesday.”

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or genuinely believed this. “A portal? Like... to another world?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! I was microwaving leftover lasagna, and I may have pressed the buttons in a sequence that resonated with the fabric of spacetime. Happens more often than you’d think.”

“Sure,” I said, now committed to seeing where this conversation was going. “And what did you see in this other dimension?”

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Mostly tentacles. Lots of tentacles. Oh, and one of those inflatable tube men they put outside car dealerships. But it was sentient.”

“Of course it was,” I said, trying not to laugh.

“I tried to close the portal, but my cat jumped through it first. Now I think she’s a double agent for them.”

“Your cat?”

“Yes. Mr. Puddles. But don’t let the name fool you—he’s a stone-cold opportunist. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s working for both sides.”

“Both sides of what?”

“The interdimensional war,” she said, like it was obvious. “Keep up.”

At this point, I wasn’t sure if she was pulling my leg or if she genuinely believed everything she was saying. Either way, I was hooked.

“So, what do you think they want from you?” I asked, leaning into the absurdity.

She sighed dramatically. “Probably my lasagna recipe. It’s really good. But also, they might be after my crystal collection. You know, the usual stuff.”

I nodded solemnly. “Classic interdimensional politics.”

“Exactly!” she said, her eyes lighting up. “You get it! Most people just think I’m crazy.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said, grinning.

She laughed, a loud, carefree sound that echoed through the metro car. “You’re funny. I like you.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling oddly flattered. “So, what’s your plan? To stop them, I mean.”

She pulled a crumpled map out of her bag. It looked like it had been drawn by a five-year-old with a crayon. “I’ve been mapping out their activity. See these red circles? That’s where I’ve felt the strongest energy. And this X? That’s my apartment. Ground zero.”

“Convenient,” I said.

“Right? I think they’re using my Wi-Fi to stabilize their connection. Honestly, it’s kind of rude. They don’t even chip in for the bill.”

“Well, interdimensional freeloaders are the worst,” I said.

She nodded gravely. “Tell me about it.”

Just then, the train screeched to a halt, and the lights flickered. She looked around, eyes wide. “They’re here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s here?”

“Them,” she whispered, clutching her bag. “The ones I told you about. Act normal.”

“Define normal,” I said, glancing around nervously.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a Nerf gun painted silver. She pointed it at the door, her face a mask of determination.

When the doors opened, it was just a regular guy in a suit getting on the train. He gave us both a weird look and sat down at the other end of the car.

She sighed in relief, lowering the “weapon.” “False alarm. But they’re close. I can feel it.”

The train started moving again, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “You really commit to the bit, huh?”

She winked at me. “Life’s too short not to. Plus, you never know—I might be telling the truth.”

The announcement for my stop crackled over the speakers. I stood up, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Well, good luck with your interdimensional war.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. “And hey, if you ever need a good lasagna recipe, you know where to find me.”

I laughed and stepped off the train, glancing back as the doors closed. She waved, still clutching her Nerf gun, and I couldn’t help but wonder: was she crazy, or was I about to become the next victim of Mr. Puddles?

Either way, it was the most entertaining commute I’d ever had.