Gorgias |
I’m Tom Gorgias, or so I call myself. My friends call me something else, clearly, because damn Gorgias is hard to not pronounce as ‘gorgeous’ and my guy friends are all kinda like uncomfortable with saying that to other guys so there. I’m tom.gorgias@gmail.com. |
She sat across from me and cried the entire train ride and I did not know what to do or say or don’t. I put a piece of paper in my book and put it on my lap. She probably knew I would see her, watch her, wonder. She rested her forehead on her hand, rubbed her eyes. She was blonde, small but not tiny, not beautiful but interesting-pretty, and she dressed okay. What had hit her so hard, mentally, that she would cry for an entire train ride between two major cities? I looked out the window, which is a lie, because I looked for her reflection in the window, so that I could watch her without watching directly, and she probably realised that as well. What could I do, I wondered, and I didn’t do anything at all, and never saw her again.
