The train left Grand Central, and I was on my way back to my aunt’s house. Seated in front of me was a geeky guy with curly hair. I glanced at him. He said, “Sorry,” taking in his outstretched foot, mistakenly thinking that I was giving him a look of disapproval.
I said, “No, I just noticed that you were writing. I’m a writer too.”
He looked at me and opened up. He told me he was working on a script for a show that will be broadcasted on youtube. He told me about his insecurities about his writing. He told me that his girlfriend has an ex who is a writer too, and she likes her ex’s writing better than his.
When I had to go down my stop, I wanted to ask for his name, or say can I add you on Facebook, but I didn’t. I told him to read “Steal Like an Artist,” and I promised to search for his youtube show, but now I have forgotten what the show was called.
I went down my stop, and in a few weeks flew back to the Philippines.
Now I’ll never know who I’ve met.
Now he’ll always be the curly-haired geeky stranger.
- Snippets of New York
- The Golden Temple of Chiang Mai
- The New York Anaconda Hugger
- The New York Subway Weirdo
- The Twin Towers of Asia
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