Rembrandt Broam
Well-known member
Anyone else ever think that they think too much?
There I am, sitting on the train on the way home from work, when I happen to notice this young woman sitting nearby, reading a newspaper. You know how every once in a while you encounter a girl who transcends cute, surpasses pretty and blazes unashamedly into pure unadulterated beauty? Well...that.
So I start to wonder about her because, well, that's what I do on those rare occasions when someone captures my attention. She's probably going home to a boyfriend or husband. Perhaps he's already home. Maybe he took the afternoon off and spent it cooking her favourite food, just for the smile it will bring to her face when she walks through the door. No doubt he's been watching the clock as he worked, anticipating the sound of her key turning in the lock, and the soft murmur as she calls out a greeting from the hallway. Now she's home, he moves from the kitchen to the living room, watching her enter, seeing her start to smile and then pause as she catches the aroma of the food, and her smile widens. As she crosses the room, the stresses and anxieties of the day falling away from her, the light from the window catches the smooth ivory skin of her cheek, and glints off her rich dark mane of ebony hair, and seeing her standing there, how she looks, how she sounds, how she smells, it's like a light going on his heart, as though his soul, his very being, is uplifted, and he knows how very lucky he is.
Uh yeah. Like I said, maybe I think too much.
There I am, sitting on the train on the way home from work, when I happen to notice this young woman sitting nearby, reading a newspaper. You know how every once in a while you encounter a girl who transcends cute, surpasses pretty and blazes unashamedly into pure unadulterated beauty? Well...that.
So I start to wonder about her because, well, that's what I do on those rare occasions when someone captures my attention. She's probably going home to a boyfriend or husband. Perhaps he's already home. Maybe he took the afternoon off and spent it cooking her favourite food, just for the smile it will bring to her face when she walks through the door. No doubt he's been watching the clock as he worked, anticipating the sound of her key turning in the lock, and the soft murmur as she calls out a greeting from the hallway. Now she's home, he moves from the kitchen to the living room, watching her enter, seeing her start to smile and then pause as she catches the aroma of the food, and her smile widens. As she crosses the room, the stresses and anxieties of the day falling away from her, the light from the window catches the smooth ivory skin of her cheek, and glints off her rich dark mane of ebony hair, and seeing her standing there, how she looks, how she sounds, how she smells, it's like a light going on his heart, as though his soul, his very being, is uplifted, and he knows how very lucky he is.
Uh yeah. Like I said, maybe I think too much.
