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The first time I saw you, sitting on the 99 B-line to UBC, you were dressed all in black from your dark hair down to your shoes. It might have made you look gothic or suicidal except for that little thread of white on your headphones, and you were smiling.

What he was doing I don’t remember, but you were smiling at the old asian man on the bench seats at the very back of the bus. Was it that he was laughing? Singing to himself? It made me smile to see him so happy, and to see you thinking the same.

Tonight, as it happened, I found myself sitting where you had been that day on the same bus, and there you were where the old man had been. Your hair and shoes were as dark as before but this time the white line from your headphones matched a white t-shirt beneath your jacket.

As I remembered having seen you before, you chuckled at something in the paper you were reading and suddenly looked up to see if anybody had noticed, still smiling. I’ve done it before too, where you loose yourself in something only to suddenly remember as you find yourself laughing that you’re still in a public place. Or perhaps it was an instinctive move to see if anybody else had enjoyed the joke as much as you. Don’t worry—I thought it was cute. You tore out the article and went back to reading it, but for a second time it had made me smile to see you smiling on that evening bus back home.

Thank you for that.

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