My boyfriend’s a Superhero

He caught my eye on a train, it doesn’t matter where to. He caught my eyes with his own and my heart with a perfect smile.

Then he vanished in a swarm of crisp shirts marching to work and stained fleeces that wished they”d booked themselves on a different train. One not so clogged with the abrupt manners and formal air of capitalist worker bees making honey for a Queen they’d never see.

I thought about him all day. Not in psychotic repetition that consumed every moment, but in wonderful flurries of happy smiles and warm glows that I was sure could be seen from the office building one over.

They were so brown. Chocolate but savoury. A smouldering passion burned behind them that only the most hopeful – and therefore desperate – part of me dared think could be for me. The rugged, ragged hair on his jaw looked coarse, yet satisfyingly comfortable and manly along the severe cut of bone. A happy pooch, an glimpse into a future of careless Saturdays filled with sleeping, beer and curries too hot for me, sat hunched over a simple black belt. A flippant flick of fringe, gelled juvenilely, pointed upwards like a horn ready to puncture even the darkest of times to come. He was the knight and white horse all in one.

And then he was just a vanished stranger on some train I took to work.

***

I saw him again. Maybe a week or so later.

He’d faded… no, evaporated…diluted? It didn’t matter. Perhaps my memory had deliberately blurred the fantastic straight lines of his defined arms. Perhaps it had even dulled his teeth so that I wouldn’t pine for a smile that, on the balance of probability, I’d never see again. Perhaps it was just an¬†overprotective swine and it, too, had fallen in love with the handsome stranger.

A foul aberration, a crime against perfection, so recklessly had it committed him to mundanity when he was constructed from materials only found in dreams and paradise.

He noticed me too. The smile tore his face open like King Arthur’s sword did to the stone as it was pulled free. A decision played across his face. He had a clear choice and in my manic state at seeing him again, being so near his extremeness again, the less than a fraction of a second it took to make stretched on for an eternity in my mind.

“Hello,” he said in a voice more syrupy than honey and more bluesy than a saxophone with an alcohol dependancy. “Is this seat taken?”