eyes and voice

I see the face as I descend the elevator to the platform. He glances at me. Blue eyes. I want him to look again.

I find an excuse to talk to him. Talk to his friend. When he speaks, I almost expect it: the accent. He's Dutch. Of course he is. The accent is unmistakeable.

"Ik spreek een beetje nederlands," I tell him. I show him the book in my purse: "Jip en Janneke". He laughs. We speak Dutch for a few minutes.

We talk on the train. I try to make him laugh. Try to make him look at me with those eyes. Hear that voice. Because he has Sjors' eyes. Sjors' accent. Some manner of speaking. I would stay forever on this train just to be reminded.

the ride ends. King street. We disembark. Nice to meet you. Three kisses.

It wasn't Sjors, I remind myself. Otherwise I might chase after - down the rainy street.

I didn't stop loving you.