Photos and Text by: Corey Amaro
I took the train to Paris.
I sat by the window, and a young, unknown man sat next to me.
We exchanged polite greetings, as we arranged ourselves for the trip.
I put on the head phones and started the DVD, I was happy to have a film to watch.
The young, unknown man leaned in,
I looked at him, he smiled and I assumed he wanted to watch the film too.
I leaned closer to the window, uncomfortable by his closeness, yet trying to be polite in an awkward situation.
He leaned away. I was relived.
During the film, somewhere between Marseilles and Paris, I fell asleep.
I felt something press against my shoulder. I woke up.
The unknown, young man was sleeping and his head was on my shoulder.
I gently pushed him over, brushing it off… obviously he fell asleep unaware that he was leaning on me. It was an accidental mishap I reassured myself.
I fell back asleep, it is what I do in trains, planes, and automobiles.
No more than a few winks later, I felt something touch my leg. I froze, yet managed to open one eye… his hand was resting there.
I closed my eye, pretending sleep, and thought to myself, this isn't happening. This is an accident. He isn't aware. I moved my leg, his hand remained. I took hold of his long, shirt sleeve by pinching it, in order to move his hand off of me, and not to wake him… I didn't want him to be embarrassed.
How I went back to sleep is beyond me. But I am known for falling asleep while driving… and maybe the situation was too much to deal with. Denial is a coping mechanism after all.
Passing Lyon, I was fast asleep. When I am asleep my mouth opens wide, unflattering but true. Somewhere in dreamland I felt something moist and warm on my neck. In my faraway thoughts I thought, "Oh God, my mouth is open and saliva is trickling down my face!" Then I shockingly came to my senses dreadfully realizing, that it was his breath against my skin, not my saliva, and that his hand was on my leg, and not next to my knee.
I wanted to scream. But his age (early twenties) convinced me that he couldn't possibly be doing this for real, he had to be unaware of his actions. Who flirts with an older woman, who sleeps with her mouth open, on a public train, in broad day-light?
(A crazy man, that is who, barking up the wrong tree, that is who.)
I opened my eyes to find his eyes looking into mine. I blinked, twice, and not in a flirtatious way. My head leaned back and he leaned in……… to kiss me!?! I nearly peed my pants.
I put my hand up, like stop sign and said, "What?" But before I could finish my sentence,
He said, "You…" But before he could utter another French word,
I gasped, "Moi?"
I wanted to say, "You have got to be kidding me!" But my lack of French prevented me. Instead I jumped up, hitting my head on the rack above and fell back into my seat. He leaned in and I ducked saying, "No."
He blushed… I stuck out my tongue (I realize that was childish, but hey that is what I did.)
He rushed away.
I stood up to see where he went. I wanted to get away too, but where could I go I was on a train.
The passengers looked at me… and I felt they thought I had offended my young lover.
I shrugged and said, "It is nothing…" but sat down instantly realizing I said too much.
I gawked, turned red, and felted cheated.
The End.
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