The Man Next to Me

The Password

Oooh, am I getting all secretive? Well, if it has to do with work, yes. So anytime you see the work category and you’d like to read about it, just type in the password:

Clue: “Is there life on Mars?”

As you can tell, it’s a little more difficult. Just FB me or drop me a note if you’d like the password. But if you’re keen to figure it out, it’s two words (remove the space) and it’s related to the phrase above. Oh and second clue. It’s an actor.

But anyway.

There is one thing I do dread about work that is not work related. And that would be the journey to work. I take the LRT to work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad. On good days, it’s relatively comfortable with decent amount of space. It’s efficient and occassionally breaks down, but no more so than the Underground for instance.

The one thing I do dislike  about the journey there is how mind-numbingly boring it can be. It’s tedious and KL generally lacks the interesting people that you sometimes see (and then run and avoid) on the train in other parts of the world. Most commuters are just like me, bored and frustrated with what they do.

I started wondering what would make my morning commute more interesting, that’s when I thought wouldn’t it be lovely if…..

Scenario 1: The Man Standing Next To Me

It’s a sunny Wednesday morning. Which makes it all the more a waste. Wednesdays are meant to be dark and gloomy, a reminder that you have THREE more days to go in this long forsaken week. I’m shifting about in the queue, left foot to right, right foot to left as the long short train arrives at the station. My fellow commuters are impatient to enter, they try to stay in the queue but some of us break out of the queue and shuffle and shove our way in. Politely of course, it’s only Wednesday, there’s no need for us to be too aggressive.

I enter the cabin, I am not fast enough to shove a kindly old lady aside for a seat. First tragedy of the day have struck. I have no choice but to stand.

But wait…

Today is no ordinary day, no. Firstly, the man next to me does not seem like a drained KL worker with bleary eyes. He is tall, very thin and hair that seemed to have a life of its own. Thick and practically uncontrollable, it looked soft and for a second I lost myself, so tempted was I to run my fingers through his hair. He is dressed in a t-shirt and a pin-striped jacket, uncomfortable in Malaysia’s warm weather but he looks perfectly suited with the jacket, as though something would be missing without it.

He has lovely brown eyes, a cheeky smile and he had his hand hanging of the safety grip. He even smells good, his cologne cutting through the smell of plastic and metal of your average LRT cabin. I am staring at him , I know I shouldn’t. He winks at me and I immediately turn my head to the front.  I feel my heart pounding and I try to keep my eyes at the window, sneaking glances occasionally and paying silent attention to his reflection on the window. I feel my palms becoming sweaty, holding onto the metal pole to keep steady was becoming more difficult as my knees grew weak. It is becoming insidiously difficult to keep the giggles deep inside my chest from escaping and then me collapsing on the ground.

Because who would have thought that David Tennant would get on the same train as I would.


Okay, more scenarios later. It’s almost time to go home! Gyahahahah.


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