Last week, there was a wonderful boy in the train. He was friendly, proper, polite and interesting. He started conversations with strangers next to him, who reacted as if he’s either a) crazy, b) horny, or c) trying to steal. I made the mistake of staring at him too hard, which he took as a reprimand. He stopped talking afterwards, when all I was doing was trying to figure out which part of him came out so right when the rest of us have turned into one of those jaded city people. I actually missed him even until today. He asked the auntie next to him, “Did your son’s team win?” when she told him she was on the way back from her son’s football match. Everybody didn’t know what to do with this boy with headphones asking questions. We all were thinking, “What’s his motive?”
We don’t really need a motive to be friendly. I was jealous he was a human being in the train, not some dead logs.
[The only cardio I do these days is rushing to grab the nearest empty table for Iftar outing. That and maybe some thumb flexing on the remote between commercial breaks. WHY AM I ENJOYING THIS?]