Lazy in Fiction
A Coincidence in Transit (from the archives)
her — My calves are still burning. I count the stations the way I always do. Four left. He's holding a notebook like he's afraid someone might fold a corner. Why is he looking at me? him — The metro smells like iron and winter. I don't know the names of the streets yet. She has the eyes of someone who never checks the map twice. her — He asks for directions in a Parisian accent. Ugh. I smell like soccer. This isn’t a good time. But then: He talks about his book the way new parents show photos. Carefully. Proudly. As if admiration might bruise it. him — She asks questions like she has nowhere else to be. Most people look through you. She looks at you. her — I don't know his name. My stop is next. him — I don't know her name. The city is starting to look like somewhere I could stay. her — He asks what I'm studying. Nice. Then: the same class. The same strange online course about speed reading and memory. Of all things. him — The odds feel ridiculous. The kind of coincidence that would seem lazy in fiction. her — I hope he asks for my number before Lionel-Groulx. I've already decided I'll say yes. him — Her stop is next. I rehearse three versions of the question and abandon all of them. her — He asks. him — She's already holding out her phone.
My dear friend, this is a incredible piece. The kind of coincidence that would seem lazy in fiction. That title earning itself completely by the end.
The dual perspective is flawless. She smells like soccer and does not want to be seen. He does not know the street names yet. And somehow the city pulls them into the same conversation, the same online course about speed reading and memory, of all things. Of all things.
He talks about his book the way new parents show photos. Carefully. Proudly. As if admiration might bruise it. That line is extraordinary. The tenderness of someone protective over something they made.
And then the two clocks running at once. Her stop is next. I rehearse three versions of the question and abandon all of them. Her already deciding yes before he has found the words. Him asking anyway. She's already holding out her phone. Of course she is. MashaAllāh, my friend. This one is pure magic. ❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻✨️🌹🥰