by Afrodite Boukas
She quickly said goodbye, smiled and scurried towards the LIRR. She knew that he was walking just as quickly to NJ transit. Same station, different trains, different lives. She knew that in another life or another time they could have been going home on that train together, but as usual, time was not her friend. She felt tired and worn, much like the metro card she held in her cold hand as she sat, relieved, in the aisle seat. She had an hour and forty five minutes to sit and daydream about a life not lived, a day spent loved, and a man that was not hers to keep.
Afrodite Boukas is a research assistant and closet writer who is slowly "outing" herself. She lives on Long Island with her husband and two children, but will always be the gum-chewing Bronx girl in red pumps.