Chrome

A Story by Roy Wang

A real-life situation that feels like fantasy.

I was sitting on an ottoman; a stool, if you will. I was waiting for the locomotive to arrive. With blurs of grey, a faded yellow tape, and the reek of homeless urine in abundance, it was hard to wonder if I was anything far from the over-marauded cesspool that was used by the middle to lower class: me. It was anything but remarkable. It was routine. Going home was only an option for those who could afford it, almost as if it were a luxury. But fares are only fair. Anyways, beyond my bitching and through the cloud of bustling movement, there was something miraculous coming down the grey steps. A pair of yellow flats. Not a gaudy piss-color either. A bright authentic light. They were for the most part clean, with minor scuffs here and there that could probably tell of countless adventures of bliss if it were animated. Engulfed by these flats, a peach complexion. Then a beige spring dress with strawberry patterns on it, a light brown belt just for the style, and medium length hair: a dark brown that looked black from afar. She was without accessories, but her facial features were worth more than jewelry. For a tunnel that has never touched sunlight, this was a miracle.

When she reached the end of the flight, she walked towards my direction without even seeing me. Or at least that is what it looked like. Maybe she did, I don't know. I was too busy distracted by her gait. It was a walk of civility and innocence, unlike all the b***h-walks that has become all too familiar. She looked like a something from a Pixar movie. But all the while hiding my glances from her, I failed to notice that she had chosen a stool directly adjacent from me. Before she sat down like a lady, she slightly bent over to fix her no-show socks (it was cute how she muttered how cheap the sock material was). I guess I wasn't that slick because she had asked me why I was staring at her so blatantly. I choked. I didn't know what to say so I averted my eyes and didn't say anything.

"Do I... do I know you?" She asked.
"No-no ma'am." I quickly replied with a cracked voice.

She chuckled and asked if I had reached puberty. I was flushed red at this point and just kept my mouth shut. I wanted to compliment her but what kind of creeper would I be if I did that?

"I've never used the subway before." She went on, "I'm actually new to the city. There's a lot of people... and a lot of noise."

The pitch of her voice was perfect. A cute high is the only way I could describe it. She didn't have an accent, but anyone could tell that by the andante of her words that she was obviously not from here. And in that moment, I didn't even know where "here" was anymore. I was lost in the confines of her lips. So much that I didn't even realize that she had become embarrassed by my silent treatment I was embellishing.

"Yeah. It's a big city." I finally said. Stupid. I sounded like a d****e.
"There's also a lot of chrome." She sounded mildly disappointed. "Where I'm from there's a lot of color!"
"Yeah..."

Stupid.

I gulped really loudly as she repositioned her body on the stool, almost as if I were Johan Sebastian about to perform my first masterpiece to an audience.

"There might not be a lot of color," she went on, "but I like the buildings. They're tall and intricate. But I'm not one for sights. Rather, I--"

The sound of the intercom interrupted and startled her. It was clear that she wanted to be shown around the city. I braced myself for any imminent words she was about to say next, but I would have never guessed this:

"I want to hear something beautiful."

I almost immediately jumped to properly introduce myself and ask her on a date. Almost. Her phone rang from inside her purse. She pulled it out and on the screen it read, "babyyy <33".

She answered. She talked in a soothing, adorable tone. It caught me off guard. It pissed me off. She got up, still muttering lovey dovey phrases on the phone. Her "babyyy" was waiting at the steps. He was wearing a leather biker's jacket. D****e.

That was the last time I cared for color.