So I started thinking about approaching her. But it wasn’t easy. A certain rhythm had set in. She boarded the train, went to her seat, smiled at me, nodded briefly in greeting, at least impliedly, sat down and picked up her book. The same procedure happened every morning. As soon as she was engrossed in her reading, I no longer dared speak to her. But she kept this up until I had to get out. When was there a moment that I could use for myself? There was really only one possible answer, and that was where she reached the seat, smiled at me and sat down before starting to rummage in her purse for the book. There was no other way if I didn’t want to screw it up the first time. At least that was my assessment. So, I decided to seize that perfect moment when it came my way.
The next day she seemed distracted, her smile ragged and her eyes absent-minded. I was sure it wasn’t, the perfect moment. So, I waited for the next day. But this time her bag fell out of her hand, so that the chance was wasted again. The next day it was unfavorable because at that very moment a message arrived from a customer that had to be answered immediately. “Tomorrow,” I said to myself. But this was a Saturday. I’d wasted a whole week, but I was able to clarify my salutation. That’s how I spent the next few days, not just the weekend. Finally, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t underestimate the influence of the day of the week. So, on a Tuesday I decided that Monday would definitely be the best day to approach her, because then she would be open and ready after what I hoped was a relaxing weekend. The following Monday I decided to myself that this was probably not the case, because she would certainly already be burdened with the thoughts of the work she was purposefully heading for. So, I changed my schedule, choosing Friday as the correct day of the week, because by then she would have left her thoughts of work behind and would already be looking forward to the weekend. But just this Friday I thought I could see an almost imperceptible but still present tension in her features, which were already so familiar to me. So, this was not correct either. In thinking about the coming weekend, I had neglected the fact that she still had a full day’s work ahead of her. However, this applied to every day of the week. I took turns thinking about all the other working days of the week. So passed week after week, month and month, spring, summer and fall. It was November again and bitterly cold. It was a Monday morning when I daringly, in my eyes even daringly, decided that it had to be today, today or never. I was so wildly determined that a great misfortune would have to happen to deter me from my plan. And this is exactly what happened. It was completely unspectacular, but the worst I could imagine. She didn’t appear. I was desperate, unable to focus on anything. All these months I had had the chance and didn’t take it. That was the punishment for that. It wasn’t until the next morning that I calmed down and assured myself that it had only happened once. Maybe she had other things to do or free time. But she didn’t come that morning either. “She’s sick,” I told myself. This thought kept me going for two weeks, but when she still didn’t appear in the third week, I was convinced I’d never see her again. Why had I been so indecisive? Why didn’t I just grab the first opportunity? So, I quarreled with myself and the fate that I had caused myself. “You screwed it up forever,” I accused myself. Then finally I looked across the seat at the luggage rack that was still on this old-fashioned train. Wasn’t there something in there? Shouldn’t I know this item? Was there any hope of seeing her again? I quickly looked around to make sure no one was watching me, but everyone was looking out the window or at their cell phones. Nobody was interested in the other. Then I grabbed the thing and settled back into my seat.
Do you want to know how to proceed? Then just check back on August 31st or subscribe to my blog so you don’t miss an episode.