Flashback.

I dreamt of you, while I was catching the last train. It was dreary, but you were the only thing that made sense.

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The train was half-empty, as if reminding me of how my existence is. I cannot recall how many times I had avoided eye contact with the few passengers, but it somehow gave me the opportunity to sulk in my quiet corner. 

Then I saw you, as if flashing before my eyes and trying to gaze into the few possibilities of the unknown. It made sense that you were wearing something bright, part of the lost clique that magnifies color and makes it more than dynamic.

I was in awe.

I would have moved forward, or asked for your name, or even invited you over for a cup of coffee, but as things go, I was self-absorbed in my quiet corner. 

Possibilities abound, but there is only thing constant: I will always be afraid.