I always sucked at small talk.

The subway, for the most part,was empty. The G-train was riding to it’s last stop and only she was sitting across from me. A number carts down there were a few clustered people. I’ve never ridden the train this late, only by coincidence did I end up across from one of the most beautiful girls in this city.

I smiled when I sat down, and she did too. Shame she didn’t do more. I played out scenarios in my head, like her dropping a piece of paper with her number on it, or asking me about my (new) coat. Hell, maybe even sitting beside me, commenting on how cold the subway was.

Then I considered striking conversation. Commenting on her hair, her eyes. Asking why she was on the train so late. Maybe we’d click instantly, maybe I could make her laugh. Maybe I couldn’t. I don’t know.

The last stop came, she got up and left. As I followed off behind her, I examined the floor for a piece of paper.

We walked in separate directions.