The crowd collapses in like a tsunami, hitting every one of Greg’s senses. He looks at the faces zooming by, each one stressed or bleak. 5 pm, closing time, and it’s already dark outside. Greg hadn’t seen sunlight that day, that damn elusive winter sun. The streetlights cast ugly shadows on each stranger’s face. Everyone rushing to get home. Each person with their own life, enmeshed in their own worries and cares and hopes. Some big oaf plows into Greg’s shoulder. Not a word exchanged between them, not an apology, nada. Whatever, gotta catch the train, gotta get home, gotta go. The crowd rises, ebbs and flows. Then, he sees her. Walking towards him, her expression like a bright beacon in a deep dark unforgiving ocean. Greg smiles. She smiles back. They pass each other. Rapid-fire thoughts of saying hello, of a future, of what-could-have-been, bombard his brain. He looks back. She’s looking right at him, her hair shimmering in the wind, beckoning him. The ocean parts and Greg walks towards her.
This is my entry for Fox Tales Week #5.