I wished you were looking for me

the same way people look for someone their whole lives.

And it may happen on a train one day when I’m looking out the window. And you decide to sit near me close enough to give me space, yet close enough to make conversation.

And for 2 hours and 42 minutes you wonder what’s my name so you can write it, scribble it, and tic-tac-toe it in your imaginary notebook.

The first thing I would say to you is
“Do you need a pen?”

And then you would off set your head in confidence. Eyes dying in the sun just to face me.

“I thought I’d never find one.”

I offered mine. Told you not to lose it.
I’ve been in your pocket ever since.