Sami Hassan

‚Southbound‘ The train jolted, hard enough to make me grab the nearest pole—just as someone else reached for it, too. Our hands didn’t touch, but they almost did. He was tall. Broad-shouldered in a way that made his coat look slightly too tight. Dark hair, warm skin, soft-looking mouth. The kind of face you only notice when you’re not looking for anyone at all. A gentle contrast: masculine frame, unexpectedly kind eyes. He caught me staring. Gave me a crooked smile that hit too deep, too fast. I looked away. Then back. He was still looking. Not in a pushy way—just… curious. Amused, maybe. Like I’d already said something funny, without speaking. The train rattled through the dark. I tried to focus on the map above the door. He leaned a little closer. “Are you lost?” His voice was smooth, warm. Unhurried. I blinked. “No. Just thinking.” He nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Good. I was hoping I didn’t have to play tour guide.” That smile again—soft, slightly teasing, like he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere. And suddenly, neither was I. (29, 6‘4, image from Pinterest)