Inklings 2025

of melancholy surrounding him. His briefcase still clutched tightly. Unlike the others, maybe I had gotten him right after all. We made fleeting eye contact, an almost imperceptible moment. His eyes were tired, but steady. Like he wasn’t surprised by anything. He had seen it all. The train jerked forward, and the world I had created in my head sped away. I wonder if the man had noticed me. Whenever I see a stranger I ask myself what’s their story? I try to untangle their lives and read into who they are. Almost always, I end up being wrong. I wonder what the other passengers had thought of me. A girl carrying flowers at 2:38 in the morning. Maybe they thought that I was in love, or had just said goodbye to someone. In their heads I was probably full of secrets and sorrow. But the truth is, I was just tired after a long day. The flowers are for me. I’m going home to my apartment. I’ll probably heat up leftovers or pass out in my work clothes. We all create stories for each other. Make up versions of the people in our lives that only exist in our imaginations. Maybe these versions are all we’ll ever really know. 44