I See You

by Clare Mackintosh

with their contents. Post snatched from the doormat after breakfast, opened on the platform while you wait for your first train. I crane my neck to read what is printed on the uppermost envelope. So now I know your name. Not that it matters: you and I aren’t going to have the sort of relationship that needs names. I take out my phone and swipe up to reveal the camera. I turn towards you; use my thumb and forefinger to zoom in until only your face is in the frame. If anyone noticed me now, they’d just think I was uploading a record of my commute to Instagram, or Twitter. Hashtag selfie. A silent click, and you’re mine. As the train takes a bend you let go of the ceiling strap and lean down for your handbag, still intent on your book. If I didn’t know you better I’d think you’d caught me looking, and were moving your belongings out of view, but it isn’t that. The bend in the track simply means it’s nearly your stop. You’re enjoying this book. Usually you’ll stop reading much earlier than this; when you reach the end of a chapter, and you slip between