She raced down the platform, her heart racing in her chest and her heels smacking against the concrete. She wasn’t running as fast as she could, the heels slowing her down. The train slowly started coming into view, and she could feel herself calming down. Her eyes were locked on the door, right as they closed— right in her face. “No!” she hissed, her voice thick with disappointment. She wasn’t late anymore, no, she was stuck. At a random train station in the middle of London, 214 miles from where the rest of her family was waiting for her. She retrieved her luggage, the remaining carry-on that hadn’t been shipped to Paris, and stalked over to a bench. Her phone was nearly dead, only 26% left, and she wasn’t sure what to do if another train didn’t come soon. That’s when he walked onto the platform, tousled dark hair and piercing green eyes. A smirk. “So, you missed it, huh?” he asked, his voice warm. She looked up, surprised. “Yep. Worst timing ever.” “Or maybe, the best timing ever,” he shrugged, leaning against the post next to the bench. “How could missing your train be ‘the best timing’?” she asked, smirking beside herself. This mysterious man seemed nice, inviting. He shrugged again. “Sometimes the universe has better plans for you. Surely the universe didn’t want you to get on that train.” She glanced down at her phone; there were no new updates on another train. “Maybe the universe had better plans for you,” the man said. “Alright, Mr. Universe. I’m listening,” she said. “What better plans does the universe have for me?” The man stopped slouching, finally making eye contact with her. “A bet,” he said, pulling a crinkled $20 bill out of his back pocket. “Whoever makes up the best backstory for him,” he points to a lonely man crying on a bench on the next platform, “buys the other coffee.” “You’re on,” she grinned. “You first, of course.” She moved her backpack off the spot on the bench next to her, beckoning for him to sit down. He was wearing joggers and a hoodie, and turtle shell glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “Alright,” he said, leaning back. “He recently found out his favorite bakery in Paris is closing. He came all the way from Houston to protest, and the rest of his group was supposed to meet him at this train station. He got here only to find out the whole group was lying and bailing.” She meets his eyes and cracks up. “That’s the best you got?” she asked, laughing so hard tears were escaping her eyes. “What! He was gonna chain himself to the croissant counter, he was devastated," he scoffed, faking hurt. “What’s your idea?” “Well,” she giggled, “he came here from Toronto, searching for a new life. He found the woman he loved and thought they would grow old together in a small town, two hours north of London. However, the woman was having an affair, and the man found out through a co-worker. It destroyed him to the point of coming back to Toronto, and he hates Toronto.” (more in notes and credits)
“That definitely takes the cake,” the man grinned. “I wasn’t finished,” she said in reply. “Well, my apologies Ms…?” his voice trailed off, searching for the woman’s name. “Stone. Analise Stone,” she said. “Continue, Ms. Stone,” he said, his eyes lighting with joy he hadn’t experienced in years. She cleared her throat and got ready to finish her narrative. She was experiencing more creativity and inspiration than she had in months. Years, probably. “He couldn’t force himself to get on the train, because if he got on the train, then his fairytale in England would be over. The end,” she said. The man didn’t say anything, just stared at her blankly. He hadn’t had an interaction with another human this pure in months. Years, probably. “Do you write stories?” he asked instead of complimenting the story she just told. The woman’s ears turned a startling shade of pink. “I try to. I haven’t been able to find inspiration,” she said plainly. “It seemed to me that the least of your problems was lacking inspiration,” he stated. She smiled softly. It appeared these two strangers brought out the best in each other. Maybe their meeting was in perfect timing, or maybe the universe just knew they needed the peace. A train stopped suddenly in front of the two, interrupting their tranquil silence. “That would be my train. It truly was an honor to people-watch with you,” he said, standing up and placing the crinkled $20 in her palm. He started to walk away, and Ms. Stone abruptly stood up. “Wait,” she said, and he turned around, hoping she would ask to come with. “I never caught your name.” “Gosh, Ms. Stone. I didn’t expect that to be what you were going to say,” he said with a laugh. “Christopher L’ameur.” The woman suddenly felt an urge to join the man in her chest. “I don’t suppose you would want company on your train ride?” Mr. L’ameur felt his cheeks warm with a sense of love he hadn’t felt since he left his fiancée three years ago. “I would like that,” he smiled. It appeared their meeting was perfectly timed.
