Uneventfully, I get to London Bridge and get on to the tube. I already have my personal stereo on but I pull out my copy of Chekhov that I’m reading and start a new short story. A few stops go by before I notice a young lady sit down opposite me, I see her catch my eye and I smile and my head goes straight back to my book. But I’m compelled not to continue reading; I find it almost impossible as my eyes are drawn back to the woman opposite. I catch her eyes again and again. Each time I become noticeably more uncomfortable.

I’m tempted to break the unwritten rule of speaking to strangers on public transport but bite my tongue. I run though all the possible conversations I could start with this woman who’ll probably end up ignoring me anyway.

When she gets up to get off at a station, I nearly spoke to her but couldn’t. She was getting off at the same stop as I was, so as soon as I got off the train I caught up to her, feeling like a school boy talking to a girl he likes in the playground, I introduce myself.