To the Man on the Tram.

I don't know how to start this.

Your name eludes me. For I never asked it and I wished I had. Your image is burned in my mind and I can't shake it. You sat across from me on the Number 75 Tram running from Spencer St Station to Vermont South. And I believe you got on at stop Number 63, getting off at stop number 40.

I feel like an ass, like I'm just latching on for the sake of it. But something about this made me stir. Made me feel different, I don't know if you felt the same, or feel it now. But I think I would like to meet you, to understand you and who you are and where you came from and what you do. I don't expect anything to happen now. I had my chance and I ignored it thinking I was being foolish in my hopes.

I think that changed the moment we played the smile game. The game where if you connect eyes with someone more than 5 times and you smile on the 6th and they smile back, then it keeps happening. Then there's something there.

I dunno. I just think that perhaps. I'll see you again, and if that does infact happen then I assure you. I shall say something. I promise myself, and you. I promise that I will fight the urge to flee and fight the stuttering speech and the stuttering heart. This I promise.

Until I see you next, Man on the Tram.

- Matt.