A man stood next to a short woman on a crowded train. He had just stood up offering a young lady his seat. The short woman gave him a smile, no doubt in appreciation from his chivalrous deed. The man tried to look over the short woman without being noticed. She was older. He could tell from her hands. Her hair was cut short, and she had on a pair of Beats headphones. She was preoccupied by a smartphone, much like the rest of the commuters. He watched as she jumped between applications: music — text messaging — Candy Crush. Her head moved to the rhythm of whatever she was listening to through her headphones, and she smiled a smile of self-satisfaction. There was something compelling about her to him, as if their souls had known each other in a previous life. He was listening to the end of the song ‘Summer Soft’ by Stevie Wonder, and he craned his neck awkwardly to view the last of the dull orange sun as it dipped behind the buildings it the distance.

His song changed, and he tapped her on the shoulder.

“You seem to really have your shit together,” he said with a kind smile.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she said.

He wanted to brazenly ask if she was a lesbian, but instead he said, “Nice headphones.”

“Yes, quite!” she said with a beaming smile.

They giggled a little and ignored the rest of the passengers pushing up against their backs.

“I know you,” he said in an enlightened state. “We met at Bobbie’s in the last couple years.”

“Oh yeah?” she said looking him up and down.

“You were dating Carlotta, right?”

“Yes, yes!” she said and paused, dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.”

“Jan, it’s Johnny, remember. You gave me a copy of the Four Agreements.”

“That’s right! That’s right.. You don’t go by Johnny though, do you?”

“Well, that’s true. Johnny was really only my Bobbie’s name.”

“John, buy me a drink,” she said out of the blue. He had nothing going on that cold winter night. He was going to go home, fix some dinner, and try to break out of a writing slump he was going through.

“Sure,” he said, and he looked around to see what stop was next, “I know a place right here off Armitage.”

“That’s great, John,” she said as she pulled her headphones down around her neck.

—

Kincaid’s was quiet that evening. For once it wasn’t $1 domestic drafts with a $5 cover. There were just a few young men lining the front bar watching the early evening, late February, college basketball games. Duke was murdering Virginia Tech. John lead the way through to the back bar. It was darker back there with fewer TVs. They grabbed a table in the front by the darkened windows. Two tables away sat a half dozen twenty-something women all drinking Coronas. The winter doldrums were in full effect.

The waitress came around, and he ordered a Maker’s on the rocks. She got a Bud Light.

“I can’t drink that stuff any more,” she said, referring to the bourbon.

“I can’t drink anything but,” he said, holding his belly, “I’m trying to get rid of this beer belly.”

“You still go to Bobbie’s?” she asked.

“No, I moved away from the neighborhood.”

He lied when he said no. Explaining that he’d been to Bobbie’s in the past 3 months would have been too embarrassing. He wanted to forget all about the flight attendant he met there one evening in early December. They had flirted on the dating site ‘OkCupid’ all day long, and since she lived in the area, Bobbie’s was an easy first-date setup. They drank at Bobbie’s from 7 to midnight, and then he finagled his way into her living room. Within a few minutes he was pulling off her clothes, which came as quite a shock to him, since he didn’t really like her. He was just trying to fuck her for the experience. She wouldn’t let him, so he left and met a friend at a nearby karaoke bar where they stayed out until 3:30am. By the morning he had forgotten her name, and she had deleted her ‘OkCupid’ account.

She was real quiet, as if she had had a long day. They both soaked up the surroundings and ogled the girls a few table away.

“Are you still seeing Carlotta?”

“No, she was too young for me I guess,” she said in a reserved tone.

“Is she deaf?” he asked in his usual unapologetic style.

“No,” she laughed and covered the big grin that came across her face, “She’s Romanian!”

They laughed together. He drank some of his drink, but it went down the wrong pipe. He coughed and laughed. She was concerned and asked if he was okay. He threw up a hand and nodded that he was fine.

“Do I remember this right? Are you a judge?” he asked.

“Yeap. Right there at State and Washington. Circuit court.”

“Wow. I know the strangest collection of people. Isn’t it…”

“Isn't it wonderful though,” she interrupted in an excited frenzy, “All the great variety of people in our lives. It’s this fantastic range from family and friends I've known for well over 50 years, to people I've just met in the last twenty minutes.”

“I know.”

They nodded together and paused.

“What do you do, John?”

“I don’t know,” he said, as a glaze of seriousness overtook his normally cheery visage. “I do a bunch of things, creative things, artistic things. But during the day I build web sites for a living.”

“That sounds pretty dull.”

“It is dull! Just me and computer. I mean there is a lot of creative thought that goes into it, but…” he stopped.

“But?”

There was a long unsettling pause.

“But today I realized I’d rather be doing other things.”

His head dropped, and a solitary tear ran down his cheek.

She put her arm around him for comfort.

“Like what other things?” she asked softly.

His eyes welled up with tears and his nose started to run.

“I…” he stammered with his head hanging low. Then with a visible effort of force he said, “I want to write. I want to write about myself, my experiences, my highs, my lows, everything.”

“Yes.”

“And through my writing I want to get a better understanding of myself and the human condition.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

He looked up at her. “I’ve got to earn a living.”

“And you can’t earn money writing?”

“No, no one’s going to buy any of my books.”

“That’s a bad assumption, John.”

“Yeah, but I can’t just change careers now.”

“Do you have kids?”

“No.”

“Do you have a wife?”

“No.”

“They what are you worrying about? Do your best, eliminate those bad assumptions, and be true to yourself. Did you even read the book I gave you? It’s all in the book, John. It’s all in the book!”

He looked at her in disbelief. He knew she was right. Someone was finally trying to wake him up to his possibilities.

“What do you want to do right now, John?”

“I want to write.”

“Then go write!”

He thought for a second, then grabbed his coat. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill from his pants pocket and left it on the table, while she sauntered over to the table of girls with a big smile on her face. He started for the door, then stopped to give her a hug.

“Thank you.”

“Thanks for the drink.”

They matched eyes, then he turned and marched through the bar to the front door. He got to the door and turned back.

She was already sitting with the Corona girls. He interrupted them giggling.

“I’ve got to ask one more question, Jan.”

The whole table turned to him and waited in eager anticipation for his query.

“Yes?”

All the eyes on him made him nervous.

“What do you wear under your robe in the courtroom?”

The girls gasped in realization that they were drinking beer with a judge.

“Nothing, John. Of course.”

He smiled and turned to leave. “That’s going in a book someday!” he yelled over his shoulder, as he ran for the next train home.