A man and I board the B train through the same door. I hadn’t noticed him on the platform, but I should have. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous. Imagine the best parts of Jude Law, early Marlon Brando, George Clooney and Johnny Depp (not the Willy Wonka Depp) all melded into one Franken-hottie. Does he really live in Brooklyn? I thought people who look like this are quarantined to the Upper East Side to keep the gene pool pure. He takes a sip of coffee and picks a song on his iPod. Of course I’m not actually going to speak to him. What on earth would I say? Come here often? Or So are you a ‘light and sweet’ man?

I just stare at him for a while, over the top of my book, while I suavely pretend to read, not acknowledging any words on the page.


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