The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. The streets bustled with life—horns blaring, people rushing to catch their buses or trains, the aroma of street food wafting through the air. Sara hurried down the crowded platform, her heels clicking against the pavement.
Her day at work had been exhausting, filled with back-to-back client meetings and last-minute revisions to a design proposal. All she wanted was to get home, curl up on the couch, and let the world fade away.
As she scanned the platform for an empty seat on the approaching train, her gaze landed on a familiar figure standing near the edge. Dean.
Dean was leaning against a pillar, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. His tie was loosened, and his expression was unreadable as he stared at the arriving train. The hum of activity around him seemed to bounce off an invisible wall he had built around himself.
Sara hesitated. Part of her wanted to approach him, to strike up a conversation like they had the other night. But something about his demeanor stopped her. He looked… distant, as if his thoughts were miles away.
The train screeched to a halt, and the crowd surged forward. Sara found herself swept along, boarding the same car as Dean.
The compartment was crowded, but Sara managed to find a spot near the window. Dean ended up standing a few feet away, holding onto one of the overhead rails.
For the first few minutes, they didn't acknowledge each other. Sara stole a glance in his direction, wondering if he'd noticed her. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Should I say something? she wondered. Their conversation the other night had been pleasant, even refreshing. But today felt… different.
Dean finally looked up, his eyes briefly meeting hers. A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and he gave a small nod.
"Hi," Sara said softly, offering a tentative smile.
"Hi," Dean replied, his voice low.
And that was it.
The train rattled on, the city lights flashing past the windows. Neither of them said another word, the silence between them both awkward and oddly comforting.
Sara busied herself with her phone, scrolling through emails she had no intention of reading. But she was acutely aware of Dean's presence. There was a heaviness about him, a weight she couldn't quite name.
Dean, meanwhile, was lost in his own thoughts. The memories he had unearthed the night before lingered like a shadow, making it hard to focus on anything else. Seeing Sara was unexpected, and while part of him wanted to engage, he couldn't summon the energy.
As the train slowed at a station, more passengers crammed into the already crowded car. A man accidentally bumped into Sara, nearly knocking her off balance.
Dean noticed and instinctively stepped forward, steadying her with a hand on her arm. "You okay?"
Sara nodded, a bit startled. "Yeah, thanks."
Their eyes met for a brief moment—Dean's green gaze filled with concern, Sara's brown eyes searching for something unspoken. It was fleeting, but it left an impression on both of them.
When the train reached Sara's stop, she glanced at Dean one last time. "This is me," she said, gesturing toward the doors.
"Take care," Dean replied, his voice soft.
As Sara stepped off the train, she felt a strange sense of unfinished business, as if there was more to say, more to uncover. But she brushed the thought aside and walked toward the exit.
Dean watched her leave, a faint sigh escaping his lips. He leaned back against the wall of the train, closing his eyes. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stir within him—an unfamiliar sense of connection.