On the train, I saw a man pass another man a note.
I hadn't noticed that they had been making eye contact with each other the entire trip. One man had to de-train at Belmont, so he surreptitiously handed the other a folded piece of paper and murmured something in his ear in passing. This happened so quickly and so smoothly that I'm sure I was the only one that saw the exchange. The object of affection did not open the note, but clasped it tightly in one fist, like a treasure, all the way to downtown.
The moment was sweet and touching, at least to me. It reminded me of school-days crushes where we'd pass notes in class: "if you like me, please check this box." There is something wonderful about that, the thrill and blush of a new possibility for romance, and also something almost innocent, in spite of our grown-up exteriors.
