To The Guy In The Checkered Shirt


The moment I laid my eyes on you, I was already mesmerized.

I don’t know you. I don’t know your name. I don’t know the sound of your voice. I don’t know whether you like coffee black or whether you like it sweet. I don’t know your quirks, your humor, your moods, or your tells.

All I know is right from the start, I was infatuated by you.

You stood there at the aisle of the bus. Your left hand was outstretched, holding on to the railing. Your back was to me but I can see the profile of your face.

My god, you are handsome. One of the prettiest faces I have ever seen. I traced the outline of your face, from your forehead, to your pointed nose, to the curve of your lips. You turned your face to the side and  I was again mesmerized by the length of your lashes and how, as if in slow motion, they fanned your pretty face when you looked down.

A few minutes into the drive, your posture started to slump. Is your feet starting to protest from standing too long? You looked at your watch. Are you going to be late? You received a text message and replied. Is that someone special? Do you already have someone special in your life?

Twenty minutes. Twenty-nine minutes in your presence and my day was already complete. You looked my way when you were about to get out but I did not meet your glance. I stared at the television overhead. The crowd of passengers getting off the bus blocked my view of you.

I wish I could have looked at you a little bit longer.

I know it might be creepy but my hopelessly romantic heart started to fall into the idea of the what ifs. What if I stared back? What if you did not go down? What if I smiled at you and you smiled back?

But twenty-nine minutes is all I got and the what ifs will remain as that.

To the guy in the checkered shirt, thank you for making my heart feel alive this morning. I hope you have someone who makes you feel like that everyday. 🙂