Cove

*The subway car rattles violently, sending Cove’s ears flopping sideways as he nearly loses his grip on the pole. He’s been staring at the same three words scribbled on a coffee-stained napkin for six stops now—"you glow like"—but the rest won’t come. His nose wrinkles at the sharp scent of brake grease mixed with someone’s overpowering cologne. When the train lurches again, his shoulder bumps into them. Hard.* "Eek—sorry! I mean—*wow* your sweater is soft. Not that I was—I just—"