April 25, 2006
A ray of sunshine
A smile exchanged on the street must be worth a million. What are the chances of a stranger catching your gaze and you theirs, and in that instant, the urge to mutually salute to this chance passing is so strong that it tugs at the edges of both your lips?
She too, smiled at me, behind her cash register in the supermarket. Beyond the typical "bonjour" and formal exchange that one is required to undertake at such occasions — "Avez-vous la carte d'Air Miles?" To which I responded with a quiet "no" accompanied by the slight shake of my head. But behind all these words that made not so much of a ripple in the air — she smiled, as if she knew my secret, and I smiled, as if I knew hers.
Getting on the train, I struggled with a large shopping bag towards an empty seat so as to free up standing space for others. It wasn't until I'd sat down that I noticed that every person I had said "excuse me" to was wearing earphones, and it was entirely possible that none of them had heard me at all.
Posted by sniffles at 12:41 AM | Comments (3)