Original Length: 862 words.
Post Revision Length: 1148 words.
Sometimes, a book is a book.
When you are on the sweaty subway, though, it's an excuse to stare at some weirdos without being punched in the face. Or maybe, to stare at the ladies!
And sure, my dear Dostoevskij, you might be right when you write that murder is indeed an interesting dilemma. But see, 150 pages just to ponder about it, that's a bit too much, isn't it? You could have trimmed it down to twenty, maybe even ten!
Maybe it's not just about the Russian accent sounding so mercurial; maybe your people do like to brood over things until the sun goes out. And looking at how long some of those books are, I mean when the sun literally stops working.
Now, look at that lady over there, my loquacious writer. She looks like my future wife, doesn't she? Wholesome, classy, and a bit bookish, huh?
I mean, she doesn't have a book, but she looks like she reads them, I think! But, even if she didn't, would that turn me off? For all I love to be transported in St. Petersburg's streets with you, I wouldn't mind if this girl wanted to bring me to Arby's.
But you, Fëdor, you know that I will indeed ponder for much more than 150 pages before mustering the courage to ask her out. I mean, if I were to kill someone, I would ponder nothing near 150 pages, just some advice for you, Fëdor. So next time, please make it shorter. But here, here we are talking about asking my charming subway crush! It's a much more serious matter!
Killing someone is easy! And why should I care about it? But romance? Despite all the crime shows popping up in the last fifty years, my dear Fëdor, romance is still worthy of more thought than murder itself.
Oh no, she's staring back. Goddammit, come on, Fëdor, do me a favor and shield me from having to grow a pair, you damn gambling addict! Make this thick unreadable thing worth its retail price! Please!
I'm trying to look inconspicuous, but I fear my presence has been noted. Alas, it is time to commit seppuku. Goodbye life, it's time for me to ascend to another world, and—
Oh man, she's still looking at me!
And not just looking!
Oh my—
"Hi!"
Now that she's up close and we are both standing, I can see that her whole face smiles. Her eyes are sparkling, and two tiny pearls at her ears somehow drag my attention to her toothy smile.
She looks like an ad for a dentist studio depicting the perfect next-door childhood crush. This woman jumps on the balls of her feet with such a cheery smile that I'm probably just having a stroke. Of course, this can't be real-life, can it?
"Hello!" I gather the confidence that I only have with women and baking.
"Do you want my number?" she winks at me.
She winks and clicks her tongue.
Breathe, Joey. Breathe.
I know, I know. My new subway crush just used my move. And with this, she has now stolen both my move and my heart.
Here we go. Civilization is going to end, isn't it? Cute subway girl wants to give me her number just like that?
Come on, this doesn't happen in real life!
I can see tomorrow's headline already.
'Joey Luciani gets asked out by a girl on the subway, the moon explodes, and now the tides are currently swallowing the entire planet! Thank you very much, Joey! This is all from the end of the world!'
Nah, too long to fit in the newspapers. Maybe they would do a TV service while the world is ending. Yeah, that's more like it.
"You want my number or not?" she asks again, this time with a smirk.
I just spaced out. But I'm always ready for a last-minute save. I messed up enough times in my life to know how to get out of any pickle.
"You are just too beautiful, and I got stumped for a moment," I pronounce the cheesy line with the courage of a person who already lost his dignity eons ago.
Her vibrant laugh goes off amid the sweaty and noisy subway, making it my personal Garden of Eden for a moment. She shakes her head and gives me a once-over. Then, after a few excruciating moments where she's evaluating if I'm good enough as a potential date, she whips out the phone.
Victory!
"Give me your number, Casanova, and I'm Vanessa, by the way," she winks again.
Now, after three winks, I start fearing that she might have a tic or something.
Here we go, couldn't be a normal one? Nope, not for me! She has a tic! Those are too many winks, aren't they? But should I ask her if she has a tic? It doesn't seem like the wisest dating move.
What do I do? I'm way too deep already to pull back now!
"I'm Joey," I wink back.
So, putting the tic questions aside for another moment, I start spelling out my phone number, and she gives me a ring; and now I have her phone number.
She smiles again and, in the same way it happens in films, the subway stops precisely at the right moment; she smiles at me one last time, making my heart jump out of my chest, and then she gets off.
Holy moly, I am living the dream!
Emboldened by Lady Luck, I try the unthinkable.
It's time for the cheesiest move in the world! It's time to ask her out to dinner tonight, right here and now! Maybe even I'll even give her a kiss! Why not! Today, nothing can go wrong! Nothing! I feel like I'm on top of the world! The cutest girl just asked me out! I'm invincible! I have defeated luck, finally!
I jump out of the seat, and I start running at the closing doors, barely making it through them. Not even Brad Pitt could have looked that cool and unfazed as I just did!
Then, I blink.
I blink, once again.
And I blink, another time, just to make sure.
Yeah, this is not New York's subway, is it?
A vast treasury with enormous riches and artifacts stands before me. Swords, your standard straight-out-of-a-comic golden coins, some more glittering swords, armors on mannequins, or just armor pieces thrown around in the golden coins to make it look fancier.
"A truly artistic and well-placed hoard," I find myself sighing with a hint of boredom.
See, I am not shocked.
What did you expect from me?
Should I be surprised that I just traveled in space, time or whatever, when my subway crush just asked to exchange numbers? What did you expect exactly? Because, I'm telling you, this is exactly what I would have expected.