Is That You?

I am sitting here in the subway train, picturing you.

Are you the one, who has got that black blazer on or, the one, whose wavy hair is blown forward and backward, uncontrollably, by the tunnel wind?

I am in and out of this steel container, day after day, week after week, hoping that we would cross path somehow, accidentally. And yet, our unexpected encounter has yet to be set up by the intricate fingers of our destinies.

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