Day 1
The day was completely ordinary.
I was taking the train home from work and had already been regretting for about twenty minutes that I had left my headphones on the nightstand beside my bed. Without music, the ride felt longer than usual. So I just stared out the window.
Spring had finally arrived. After endless months of grayness, the world seemed to wake up. Young leaves covered the trees with a light-green haze, grass was breaking through the lawns, and the sun was no longer hiding behind heavy winter clouds. Even the air felt different — lighter.
My mood got better on its own.
At the next stop, a guy sat down across from me. After a while, I noticed that he kept glancing at me from time to time. Not in a pushy way, more like he was trying to figure out whether he could start a conversation.
Out of boredom, I started looking at him too.
An ordinary guy. Nothing special. A dark jacket, short hair, a slightly tired appearance. If we had passed each other by chance on the street, I wouldn’t have remembered him.
He caught my gaze and smiled.
I automatically smiled back and immediately turned toward the window again.
New acquaintances were the last thing I wanted right now. After the past year of an abusive relationship, any stranger caused more caution than curiosity.
“Would you mind getting to know each other?”
His voice came from right beside me.
I turned my head.
His smile was still friendly, but his eyes... His eyes were strange. Cold. Almost emotionless. As if he was smiling only because he was supposed to.
“I don’t mind,” I answered, mostly out of politeness.
There were still three stops left until mine anyway.
“I’m Jerry.”
“Hannah.”
“Coming home from work?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m an office manager.”
“Interesting. And where did you study?”
“At business college.”
He nodded.
“And what are office managers’ salaries like these days?”
I frowned slightly.
A strange question for someone you’ve known for less than a minute.
“Doesn’t matter how much it is, you always want more,” I answered evasively.
He smiled.
“Aren’t you curious what I do?”
“What?”
“I’m a programmer.”
“I see.”
Honestly, I wasn’t interested at all.
The train smoothly slowed down and stopped at the next station.
Two more.
“Where do you live?”
“On University Station.”
The questions kept coming one after another, like items on a questionnaire.
“Do you live alone?”
“Yes.”
A familiar feeling of discomfort began stirring in my chest.
Nothing specific. Just intuition.
As if some tiny little light inside me was quietly blinking red.
“What’s your zodiac sign?”
I barely held back a sigh.
“Leo.”
“Oh, I like Leos. I’m a Scorpio.”
Of course.
One more stop.
I could already see myself standing on the platform, far away from this conversation.
“When is your birthday?”
“The eighth.”
“And what are you planning?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Not yet.”
I stood up from my seat.
Better to stand near the doors.
“Sorry, I’ll be getting off soon.”
“That’s a shame.”
He stood up too.
For some reason, that made me uncomfortable.
“Let’s at least exchange numbers. Maybe we can talk some more.”
*Oh, fuck.*
I really didn’t want to give him my number.
I quickly gave a random number, intentionally saying the last digit incorrectly.
“555 96 87.”
“I’m saving it.”
His fingers quickly moved across the screen.
“Hannah Banana,” he said with satisfaction.
I almost grimaced.
What a stupidly obvious rhyme.
“I’ll call you now so you can save my number.”
*Fuck. Of course.*
*Why wouldn’t he.*
He pressed the call button.
A second later, a mechanical voice announced:
“The number you have dialed does not exist.”
Jerry slowly looked at me.
“Interesting.”
The smile didn’t disappear, but somehow I felt even less comfortable.
“Let’s check it again.”
I had no choice but to give him my real number.
“555 96 88.”
“But you said 87.”
“Maybe you wrote it down wrong.”
“No,” he said calmly. “You said exactly 87. I have a good memory.”
For a second, a strange silence hung between us.
The train began slowing down.
My station.
Finally.
“Alright, I’m getting off.”
“Jerry,” he reminded me. “In case you forget.”
“Sure,” I said over my shoulder.
The doors opened.
I almost jumped onto the platform.
Only when the train was left behind did I finally manage to breathe normally.
Taking out my phone, I still saved his number.
“Idiot from the Train.”
I was already about to put my phone back into my bag when the screen lit up with a notification.
“Jerry. It was nice meeting you :)”
I stared at the message for a few seconds.
Then I smiled to myself.
“Goodbye, Jerry.”
The phone went back into my bag, and I headed to the store to buy some groceries, leaving behind both the train and the strange encounter that I hoped would never happen again.
After buying groceries and walking up to the checkout, I took out my phone to pay.
The screen immediately lit up with a new message.
“I hope you’re doing okay.”
The sender — “Idiot from the Train.”
I opened the chat.
There were already several unread messages waiting for me.
“What the fuck...” slipped out a little louder than I wanted.
A few people near the checkout turned in my direction.
“Sorry,” I mumbled to the cashier, quickly tapped my phone against the terminal, grabbed my bag of groceries, and started reading the conversation as I walked.
“By the way, I forgot to say — you’re very beautiful.”
“I just saw a girl. She has the same handbag as you, a ‘Chanel.’ It immediately reminded me of you, so I decided to write.”
“Is yours authentic or a fake?”
“You’re not answering.”
“I hope you’re doing okay.”
Five messages.
In barely twenty minutes.
My phone vibrated again.
I didn’t even have time to lock the screen.
“By the way, I was just reading the horoscope for Leos.”
In the next message, he sent an entire paragraph.
“Today you may experience an unexpected encounter that will bring pleasant emotions and make you look at some things in a new way. Don’t rush to conclusions — this meeting may turn out to be more important than it seems at first glance. Changes are approaching that will quietly open a new stage of your life.”
And one more.
“And after this, how can you not believe in horoscopes? :)”
“Fuck... Why did I give him my number...”
The mood that had been so light and spring-like just half an hour ago disappeared without a trace.
“It’s fine. I won’t answer — he’ll leave me alone,” I reassured myself, putting my phone back into my bag.
But with every step toward home, it became harder and harder to calm down.
“Seriously? ‘Authentic or fake?’ What the hell is it any of your business?” I muttered to myself.
I walked down the sidewalk, getting more and more irritated.
Where do these weird people even come from?
We met twenty minutes ago, and he was already flooding me with messages as if we had known each other for years.
And those horoscopes...
What normal man even reads horoscopes? Although, most likely, he just made it up himself.
“Pleasant emotions...”
Yeah.
So pleasant that I already wanted to block him forever.
I tried to distract myself.
The spring sun was still warming my face, the trees quietly rustled in the light breeze, and the city was slowly coming back to life after winter.
“What should I make for dinner today?..”
I wanted something tasty. Then I wanted to wrap myself in a blanket, turn on some old movie, and forget about this strange day for at least a few hours.
Old movies had always worked almost like therapy for me.
Yes, they were often naive, sometimes even ridiculous. But there was something about them... something warm. Sincere. As if the world back then had been a little simpler.
“Maybe I’ll rewatch something with Audrey Hepburn,” I thought as I entered the building.
Only after I got home did I take my phone out of my bag.
The screen lit up.
Eleven missed calls from “Idiot from the Train.”
An unpleasant chill ran down my spine.
This was no longer funny at all.
My phone vibrated again.
The screen showed: “Idiot from the Train.”
I let out a heavy sigh.
*What am I supposed to do now? If I don’t answer, it seems like he’ll keep calling forever.*
I really didn’t want to answer.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then finally slid my finger across the green button.
“Hello,” I said as coldly as I could.
“Oh! You finally answered!” Jerry exclaimed happily. “I was starting to worry if you were okay.”
“I’m fine!” I replied sharply. “Are you okay? You sent me a bunch of messages and called me eleven times. Do you think that’s normal?”
There was a short pause on the other end.
“Sorry...”
“It’s really creepy when someone you’ve known for half an hour acts like this,” I tried to explain calmly.
“I was genuinely worried. You weren’t answering. And I had just read a news report that a girl was hit by a car at a pedestrian crossing near University District. I thought... what if it was you? You were there at exactly that time. I started worrying. I called because I thought: if it really was you, maybe someone nearby would pick up your phone and tell me that you were okay...”
I stayed silent.
*What is even going on inside his head?..*
We had known each other for less than an hour, and he had already imagined me getting hit by a car and created an entire scenario where random strangers answered my phone.
It was some kind of... sick logic.
“I’m fine,” I said more calmly. “But I’m really tired today and I just want to rest.”
“And what are you going to do today?” he immediately interrupted.
I closed my eyes.
Did he really not understand hints?
“I already told you. I want to rest.”
“Well, people can rest in different ways. I’m curious how exactly you like to relax.”
I felt my eyelid starting to twitch.
“Jerry, I’m really tired. I want to eat, take a shower, and be alone. Right now, I’m not in the mood to continue this conversation.”
A quiet chuckle came from the other end.
“Oh, you remember my name. Nice, Hannah Banana.”
I closed my eyes again.
A deep breath.
“Have a good evening.”
Without waiting for a response, I ended the call.
The apartment became quiet again.
I stared at my phone for a few more seconds.
More than anything, I wanted to throw it against the wall so it would never ring again.
But for some reason, I had a feeling that even that wouldn’t make Jerry disappear from my life.
A few minutes later, my phone vibrated again.
Reluctantly, I pulled it out of my bag.
“Sorry again for calling so many times. I was genuinely worried about you. I’m really sorry things turned out this way. I hope you have a good evening too, and I hope you get some good rest.”
I read the message silently but didn’t reply.
I simply put the phone back into my bag and went to take a shower.
I stood under the hot water much longer than usual, as if I was trying to wash away this entire strange day.
Jerry’s cold gaze. His endless messages. His inappropriate questions. The feeling that he had stepped into my personal space, even though we had only known each other for a few hours.
I wanted all of it to disappear together with the water running down my body.
I was incredibly hungry, but I had absolutely no desire to cook.
So I grabbed a bag of chips, opened a can of Coke, and made myself comfortable on the couch with my laptop.
Without thinking too much, I turned on Love in the Afternoon starring Audrey Hepburn.
I had already watched this movie more than once, but every time it affected me the same way.
How wonderfully she acted.
So delicate, elegant, intelligent...
And the entire atmosphere of the film felt like a blanket I wanted to wrap myself in after a difficult day.
I wanted, at least for a few hours, to escape to that Paris, to the room at the Ritz Hotel, sit by the window with a glass of wine, and look out at the evening city where there were no phones, no intrusive strangers, and no Jerry.
Without noticing, I fell asleep right on the couch, with chips scattered all over me and the blanket.
I dreamed of Paris.
I was walking through the narrow streets of the 1950s wearing a light dress and a small hat with a delicate veil. I entered cozy cafés, ate croissants, and simply enjoyed life.
In that dream, I somehow understood one thing very clearly:
I didn’t need anyone to be happy.
Not a man. Not a relationship. Not being in love.
Only evening Paris, the warm glow of streetlights, and a fresh croissant in my hands.
I woke up when it was already completely dark outside, and the movie had ended long ago.
Stretching, I looked at the clock.
Half past eleven.
“Oh... There’s still a whole night ahead,” I mumbled happily. “I just need to get my ass up and make it to the bed.”
I stayed on the couch for a few more minutes, mentally negotiating with myself to get up, but instead I started drifting back into sleep.
“Ugh, I need to get up, otherwise I’ll fall asleep again,” I told myself and finally stood up.
When I reached the bedroom, I suddenly remembered:
“Damn... I need to put my phone on the charger.”
Just thinking about my phone immediately made me think of Jerry, and with a little apprehension, I took it out of my bag.
No messages.
“Thank God...”
I actually felt relieved.
Calmly, I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and remembered my dream again.
What if I actually took a vacation? Flew to Paris... I’ve wanted that for so long.
The thought warmed me, and I started imagining myself sitting in a small French café instead of meeting strange men on trains after work.
After finishing my evening routine, I returned to bed, connected my phone to the charger, and checked the screen one more time.
No messages.
“Good,” I thought, settling comfortably under the blanket.
It felt like this strange day had finally come to an end.
A few minutes passed.
My phone quietly vibrated.
I closed my eyes.
Should I look or not?
Maybe Mom texted...
Although no. Mom almost never texted this late.
I sighed heavily.
“Ugh... I won’t fall asleep anyway until I check.”
I unlocked my phone.
A new message.
“Sweet dreams, Hannah Banana 😊”
I stared silently at the screen for a few seconds, then finally lost my patience.
“Go fuck yourself, Jerry!”
And I completely disappeared under the blanket.
About half an hour later, after a stream of pointless thoughts, I finally fell asleep again.
And once again, I found myself in Paris.
I was slowly walking through narrow streets illuminated by warm, old-fashioned streetlights. The air smelled of fresh pastries, an accordion was playing somewhere nearby, and I, like an Audrey Hepburn heroine, walked leisurely past shop windows, finishing a croissant.
I stopped in front of a Chanel store and started looking at the handbags, wondering which one would match my dress best.
There was almost no one on the street. Only birds occasionally flew by, and the city felt so quiet and cozy, as if it belonged only to me.
After walking around for a while, I returned to the Ritz, entered my room, crawled under a soft blanket embroidered with tiny flowers, and slowly began drifting off to sleep.
I felt my body becoming heavy, my thoughts dissolving, one more moment — and I would fall completely asleep...
Suddenly, I woke up.
Something was wrong.
There was a strange, sticky feeling, as if someone was standing beside my bed. For a second, I even thought I could hear someone’s quiet breathing.
I froze.
Slowly, barely breathing, I began lowering the blanket from my face.
Above me, almost touching me, leaning over my face, stood Jerry.
He silently stared directly into my eyes with his cold, completely empty gaze.
I woke up.
Again.
This time for real.
I was lying in my own bed, under my own blanket, in my own apartment.
My heart was pounding so hard it felt like the entire room could hear it.
I didn’t move. I only listened to the silence, afraid to even look out from under the blanket.
A stupid thought wouldn’t leave me alone: what if this time it was going to be exactly like in the dream?
I suddenly threw off the blanket, jumped out of bed to the side, and screamed:
“I’m going to beat the shit out of you!”
I froze.
I was standing in a completely ridiculous pose: my legs half-bent, my arms spread out, as if I was about to give a karate demonstration.
The apartment was silent.
So silent that the only thing I could hear was my own heavy breathing.
Of course, there was no Jerry here.
“I’m losing my mind...” I said out loud, still standing in that stupid stance.
I actually started laughing at myself.
I climbed back into bed, but I didn’t dare cover my head with the blanket anymore.
Sleep was gone completely.
His face kept appearing in my mind again and again, and all the events of this damn day kept replaying in my head.
I picked up my phone.
No new messages.
The relief lasted about five seconds.
Then I suddenly jumped out of bed again, walked to the front door, checked whether it was locked, and stood there for a long time staring through the peephole, even though I knew perfectly well there was no one there.
“Oh, fuck... I really got inside my own head,” I said, laughing as I remembered how I had jumped out of bed a few minutes earlier like some karate fighter from a cheap action movie.
But I couldn’t fall asleep anymore.
That fucking Jerry wouldn’t leave my mind.
I went to the living room, gathered the spilled chips back into the bag — as if that somehow still mattered — sat down on the couch, and turned on the Audrey Hepburn movie again from the exact moment where I had fallen asleep a few hours earlier.
I slowly finished the leftover chips, washing them down with Coke, and forced myself to focus on the movie just to distract myself.
Eventually, it actually worked.
I stopped thinking about Jerry, stopped listening for every little sound in the apartment, and simply watched the film.
Toward morning, I fell asleep again.
This time without any dreams.
No good ones.
No bad ones.
