Brown-Eyed Boys Exist

I remembered seeing those brown, bubble eyes before. They had a large, soft look to them like the fluff that forms on a knitted scarf after it’s been snagged on a patch of a child’s velcro.

I stood leaning on the doors of the metro watching him raise the muscles in the right side of his face to form almost the peak of a mountain; his eye winked and his lips smiled at me while he towered over his friend sitting down.

He leaned his right shoulder back, resting on the doors parallel to mine. There was lots of space and air between us until a tiny laugh ruptured from my belly hoisting up my lips, but mostly curving them up on the left side of my mouth. It wasn’t a complete smile you see.

Directing my look to another part of the metro car, I noticed a man who I had served just this past weekend at work. We stared at each other but he didn’t change his face which hinted at how he probably didn’t remember me.

I searched the STM app persistently for the most convenient stations I could get off at that I would only have to wait a maximum of three impatient minutes for a bus. Racking my brain through all of this, I tried my very hardest to pinpoint where this man and I had previously seen each others faces  before. All ends were open – it could have been anywhere.

At Jolicoeur I slipped out of the train and the man  followed tightly behind me, and then to my side leaving his friend to continue on, seated alone.

“Hey!” he exclaimed.
“Hi” I fronted.
“I’ve seen you before, more than once” he said, reading my mind.
“I know. I remember your face as well, I just can’t remember where” I said as we began to have a real interaction on this cold Tuesday.
“Maybe in La Salle” he gave as an idea, “you were with some friends” he told me.
“I think it was in the summer actually, on the metro. You were wearing a pink shirt.”
“I really don’t know, I don’t remember what I was wearing” he said, making me realize that it was a peculiar and a bit of an unorthodox detail for me to point out.

“This isn’t my stop but I thought I’d get off and not miss this occasion” he confessed.
“I realized” I thought to myself.
“You’re very cute” he said lightly smiling.
My green eyes smized through my bangs with the intent of thanking him as they stared into the deep pools of dark chocolate located on his face just bellow his eyebrows, just above his cheek bones.

“We should exchange phone numbers” he said as another idea.
“You should give me your phone number” I said carefully, pointing my index finger to him.

In a stream of sounds, my fingers retorted on my phone’s screen to the numbers I understood I heard.

Watching in a way, he said in front of me, “No, it’s 88 there, not 87.”

I corrected the number and laughed at the thought of taking down the wrong one.
He gave me his name as we shook hands but I kept my name to myself.

“I hope I see you soon” he shared.
“Right. Pleasure to meet you” I said, remembering my manners.

I walked away up the stairs not looking back on what had happened.
The softness of his eyes made imprints into my blank mind that was clouded in that present moment.

I didn’t quite know what to make of the pink, t-shirted, brown-eyed man I remembered from two seasons before.

Standing in line, my shadow was crept up on as the bus I had the hopeful intentions on taking pulled up alongside the curb. The sun dashed behind the large chunk of bus making it shine less on the frosted pavement.
My steamy, warm bubble that I was waiting in, busted and the richness of the image of the colour of his eyes that I was consumed in hastily left me.

He was a brown-eyed boy.


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