The lot was already seated when I got on the late train heading east at Young and Bloor and they had been in no way spectacular these children of East Indian immigrants. The girls in colours from their mothers’ countries – pretty jewel tone scarves, yellow gold bangles and light delicate sent – paired well with super tight blue jeans enviable boots and designer handbags. Though, the young men with them seemed less exotic in their beer commercial attire all of them in crisp white sneakers Lacoste, K.Swiss and the like with pop-star jeans and goose down jackets they had been no less foreign.
Mademoiselle Lange as Venus by Anne-Louis Girodet de Roucy-Triosson
They were happy with something like youth and sprawled over a dozen seats even though there I’m certain there was no more than eight. At their centre was a voluptuous goddess with eyes ideal and hundred watt smiles. It is for her the grand spectacle was set forth. Her escort for the evening by then mad in love with her peeled of his jacket to straddle the handle bars in an impressive show of strength for one his size. She granting him restraint smiles even as the other girls teased and the young men whistled and cheered him on.
Then a lone clapper, our protagonist entered from the front of the cart his tone openly mocking as he offer insincere near provoking encouragement that is utterly misinterpreted by the other commuters who now clapping in earnest for the lovesick fool now doing push-ups at his lady’s feet. Though his display had backfired it had produced for our protagonist the desired effect for now he had the goddess’ eye.
It had been posturing to garner her attention and it had worked. He knew he showed well compared to the overgrown adolescent now seated at the goddess’ side talking workout regime with other young men in their group for he was a good five years older than the lot. He was a sort of urban professional, dressed in grey with the trendy cross-bag and the Brooks Brother shoes compete with arrogant self-confident smile.
Only he didn’t take into account familiarity and comfort. The silly boy at her side was already a member of her set and mad in love with her. She knows he will grow into a man in time and she could guide him to dress the part of the urbane professional if she so desired. He won the battle, her attention but lost the war for she was sensible and rooted perhaps a more romantic girl would have...
My love my care,
Simone
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