I remember seeing you in the old underground train station, your eyes piercing through the crowd. Your eyes were inviting enough to overtake my itch of shyness, so I walked on over. I heard the sweetness of your voice along every syllable of your name and it instantly branded itself to my memories. We both got on the train and somehow found two empty seats that to this day, I’m still astonished considering the mess of a train it was. To this day, the mention of your name reminds me of the soft smile and the stream of hair you brush behind your ear. It was early in the morning, I remember because you told me all about how it was your first day at work as a designer. The thoughts sparking in my head like fireworks as you mention what you do, a smile already escaping through the corners of my lips. I absolutely admired you, you told me all about the years you spent studying at uni, all the failed attempts, and all the beautiful attempts. I remember the soft chuckle as I ask if there could’ve been something of yours I’ve seen, as if I was a shit comedian sharing a joke you can’t help but laugh sympathetically. I couldn’t help but mention all the years I studied design at school, how I thought I was a genius because I was able to do what I know now as the basics of photoshop. I was so invested in you and your fascinating lifestyle that I forgot to ask if we could keep in contact before you had to rush off the train because the doors were about to close. I still think about you, the kind-hearted artist nervously preparing yourself for your new job. Sometimes I think moments like those are just meant to be as they are, small crystal moments in time that’s nothing more, and nothing less. Just a perfect moment in a world filled with imperfections.