Her hair still carried the remnants from the night before. Hairspray, dry shampoo, the smell from whichever club she had been at, and the faint aroma of stale perfume. 

She wore the same white summer dress and high heels, although she had let them fall to the ground by her seat. 

Her head was hungover, but the scenes from the night before kept at her. A dance, an embrace, and a kiss. A drink, a car ride, and then an embrace and some more kissing. 

She winced when his face popped in and out of her mind. There was also a girl whose face was nowhere to be seen. 

The train rattled past Fulton Street and then continued back into Brooklyn. 

She caught a reflection of herself in the window across from her. She still looked good. That was her blessing and her curse. The reasons why no one ever looked into her eyes or smiled with any genuine affection. 

The fact that she had graduated number 2 from Boston University meant nothing once they saw her, a curse and a blessing?

Did they even hear her speak? 

Can they ever get to know her?

She just smiled to herself and stood up to get off at Jay Street. 

A seemingly middle-aged man smiled at her as they waited for the F train. He looked at her and said, “I believe we have met before.”

She stepped away and then looked at him. “I believe you. You look familiar to me.”

“Did you live in Boston around 6, 7 years ago?” He asked. 

“Yes, I went to BU and graduated in 2019, a year before COVID.”

“I used to run a coffee shop on Commonwealth Ave, ‘The Grind.’ Have you ever been there?”

“I’ve spent hours there several days a week. Doing my work and avoiding being on the campus.”

“I remember you now. You used to wear a black Mets cap, and your face was always in the books.”

“Guilty. What is your name?”

“Henry. You are?”

“Felicia.”

“Nice to re-meet you.” They both smiled, and when the train crawled in, they entered and sat together.

“How far are you going?” Henry asked.

“I’m getting off at Carroll Street.”

“Would you like to get a drink? Or are you busy?”

She paused for 30 seconds and thought to herself. “Where am I running to?”

“Yes, that would be nice.” She smiled.

She didn’t say yes on a whim. She remembered Henry as someone who used to be very respectful and friendly. He probably didn’t remember, but they once had a long conversation about everything from literature to baseball. 

They got off at Carroll and found a quiet bar to sit and to talk. He listened to her and he looked within her, not just at her. 

“I remember now. We had some conversations about the Mets and F. Scott Fitzgerald, right?” Henry said. 

“Yes, I always enjoyed speaking with you because you didn’t just see me for my physical appearance, you saw me for who I am.”

Henry thought to himself, That is true. But her physical appearance was why he struck up a conversation in the first place. She looked so engrossed in what she was reading or studying. Sipping at her coffee and staring into space. She had a certain smile that ran deeper than her lips, taking shape or her teeth, emitting a glow. There was something that ran deep. Their conversations were also what kept him speaking with her, and then one day, she was gone. 

“I remember one day you were there and the next you were gone.” He said.

“I graduated early. I didn’t attend the ceremony because my grandmother had passed away the night before. I ended up going home and getting my diploma in the mail. What are you doing in Brooklyn anyway? Don’t you live in Boston?”

“I did once, but I missed living in New York City. So I took an apartment by Dennett Place, a yellow house with a basement in which I now live.”

“When did you move?”

“During the pandemic. May 1st was my first day back in Brooklyn. I had no furniture, only a new bed which the landlord provided for me. My family was happy I was back, and for around 30 seconds, it was great to be with them.”

“Yeah, those 30 seconds can feel like a year in Siberia.” 

“With no clothes.” They both laughed. 

“So how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Felicia said while turning beet red.

“Ah, the gray hairs. I started getting gray at 19 years old. I am just happy I still have hair, and I am 36 years old.”

Hearing that he was 36 years old made her smile. Inside and out. He noticed and he smiled back. Inside and out.