While on the train I met someone who strangly enough looked a lot like Max. His hair was in tiny twists and wore typical outdoor basketball gear. We both eyed each other on the train trying to figure out why the other looked so familiar. He sat not to far from me and we played a game of cat and mouse trying to figure out if there was some clues that would lead us to how we knew each other.
After a few stops, he finally asked me if he knew me from somewhere. “I’m sorry, but you just look so familiar.” I told him not to worry about it because I felt the same. He introduced himself as Anthony. We shook hands and proceeded to sit next to each other.
He told me he was originally from Jamaica, Queens and asked me had I ever been around that area. I have, but that area was so big I highly doubt we had bumped into each other before. I think I would have remembered seeing a Max look-alike. He told me that he wasn’t used to riding the train we were on due to his limited experience in the Bronx. His laugh was soft hearted and his wit was calming. All he wanted was a simple conversation. With the evening I was having, I was in need of such a wondrous thing.
From Pokémon Go to possible Eevee tattoos (He even shares my hate for Sylevon. How could he be a bad person?) to why he couldn’t play sports due to his history of injuries in just about every single one, the convesation grew lovelier by the second.
It was disheartening that it was so short, but I had a home to return to and he had a friend to visit. There was plenty of chances for him to ask me for my number or some kind of contact, but he didn’t. He mentioned about seeing me again one day and left it up to fate. I appreciated that as I waved him goodbye. His wave back with a childish grin reminded me of better days.
I do hope I meet him again. Maybe we will. Here’s to the boy who wants a a Esspeon tattoo. I’ll be sure to look for that Flareon for you.