Forget Me Not.

Alix.

I hated mornings.

Waking up at six when I’d only fallen asleep at four? Definitely not my thing. But what wouldn’t we do for the people we love?

So, I dragged myself to the train station, breathing in the crisp scent of the autumn morning. Once there, I weaved through a group of blondes laughing loudly and an old man begging for spare change to reach the edge of the platform. Thankfully, the train didn’t make me wait.

As soon as the doors opened, I jumped in, which wasn’t easy. It was surprisingly packed for such an early hour. My body was crushed from all sides, and I silently prayed for a miracle in the form of an unoccupied sit nearby. The ride from Kimberville to Chalmoni Alley was a two-hour stretch, and standing the whole way would definitely result in the amputation of my legs. 

Had I known it would be this crowded, I would’ve opted for sneakers and a casual look, not these stilettos and certainly not this secretary-style skirt. Too short for business standards, anyway.

Elbowing my way through the crowd—literally—I managed to find a tiny pocket of space under the arms of two giants, where I wanted to catch my breath but, I reconsidered.

Conversations were buzzing all around me, while I was suffering! Honestly, I was close to asking blondie and brunette if they knew about the incredible and very useful inventions called soap and sponge, which go hand in hand with the simple concept of taking a shower. But once again, I reconsidered.

Then, as if by divine intervention, they both got off at Livz, along with half the train. I found the perfect spot by the window. I sat down, crossed my legs, put on my headphones, and hit play on Je te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson. My gaze wandered beyond the dry forests and fallen leaves, which covered the ground like a brown jacket, sometimes thick, sometimes thin. Then a horrible person—heartless, thoughtless, and completely inconsiderate of me and the art I was listening to—sent me a text, interrupting the pala la la la of the song.

Zarah: I made your favorite dish, please don’t kill me. x 

Me: I was thinking about pulling out your hair with tweezers. 

Zarah: Sounds like someone hasn’t had a train crush yet. 

Me: Get out of my phone, I’m trying to listen to my music. 

Zarah: Let me know if you find a crush and invite him over. Anyway, see you soon, my love.

I smiled stupidly at my best friend’s text, not realizing we’d already reached another stop, and the space was filling up again.

“May I?”

Tall.

The man in front of me was insanely tall and, most importantly, insanely handsome. From his wavy blonde hair to his gray eyes and perfect facial structure, I had to blink several times, to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. He was looking at me as if waiting for an answer, which snapped me out of my daze.

 “Huh?” 

“May I sit?” 

We were on a train, not in a restaurant where I could’ve maybe reserved the seat next to me.

 “Oh, sure, go ahead!” I responded anyway, and only then did he sit down. And, to top it off, he smelled good.

 The first notes of Truth In The Lies by Central Cee rang in my headphones, while I decided on which personality to use for the day (more specifically, which one to use to talk to him because I was feeling a bit brave).

 “You’re very polite. A bit weird, but polite nonetheless,” I said after taking off my headphones, deciding to just be… myself?

 “That’s… nice of you?” he smiled, and wow. “And you have nice teeth.” 

“And you’re simply beautiful.” Came his response

I felt my cheeks warm up as his gaze moved from my black hair tied in a bun down to my admiring eyes. I thought I saw a storm brewing behind his grey eyes. A pond under a stormy sky, and a world wrapped in molten silver.

His full lips stretched slightly, and it was all it took for my heart to try and beat out of my chest. 

“My name’s Amos,” he told me, before settling in more comfortably and resting his head on my shoulder. “ You?” 

“Aary.” I shifted to avoid him straining his neck trying to reach my shoulder.

 He pronounced my name like no one had before. “I’m heading to a job interview in Felliya,” he said after a moment. “No one asked, but… okay.” Amos laughed. A warm, soft sound. Loud yet tender. “I like you.”

The minutes passed, and time witnessed our conversations—some normal, others completely absurd—ranging from his interview at C&C (a law firm) to the fact that he’d make a terrible witch because of his clumsiness. He assured me he’d brew the most impossible potions. Sadly, we lost track of time, and he barely had time to place a soft kiss on my forehead before rushing off at his stop.

The doors closed. 

I stayed inside.

 My heart, however, was left outside.

I silently wished him good luck with his interview, watching as he backed away, his eyes still locked on mine. The train resumed its journey as my imagination began shaping “what ifs.” Unlocking my phone, I sent a quick text to Zarah, a smile on my lips.

Me: Grab a bottle of wine, I’ve got things to tell you.