I guess that’s where it started. Hello, stranger. Every morning I’d get a tickle of excitement when I stepped onto that train. Hello, I’d say, and hello, he’d say back. Over and over as I sat myself down opposite, both of us in the same seats on every ride. I’d hold my cover up and he’d hold up his, and we’d smile, and sometimes we’d comment, but that would be it. He’d drop his eyes and I’d pretend to drop mine, sitting with this weird tingly squizzle inside until Harrow. The next station is Harrow. And then I’d shove my novel under my arm and jump to my feet ready to leave, and he’d speak
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