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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Tommy, can you hear me?

Ah, Tommy. My favorite waiter in Chicago. My ex-major crush and now among the minor leagues.

As I transfered from the Brown Line to the Red Line at Belmont, there he was. In a Sox shirt, not in a restuarant, not with a drink tray. Wearing street clothes, meeting a friend to head to the game. The friend and I arrived at the same time and I rode the red Line with them all the way to my stop at Jackson.

This was the first uninterrupted converstation we’ve ever had, at least, not interrupted by food. I tried not to assume I would ride and talk with them, but Tommy asked me a couple questions and I moved closer. It was great. Even though he has a girlfriend and my heart doesn’t stop when I see him and it was just a coincidental ride the on train, it was better than any date I’ve had in ages.

Maybe I should ride the train more often.

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