This is Love

As my light rail train was pulling into the St. James station, I saw this teenage couple running to catch it. I looked up from my book just in time to see the young lady trip and fall down. She hit her knee on the elevated platform, and her book bag spilled its contents.

The young man seemed to sense the young lady's plight, and, almost instinctually, the young man helped her to her feet. The doors of the train were open, and the brave girl sprinted the last 30 feet on an injured leg carrying the contents of her bag in her arms.

They made it on the train, and I smiled for I know what it's like to chase after a light rail train in less-than athletic attire, like collared shirts and ties.

The young man looked relieved, but as the adrenaline wore off, the young lady started to cry. Her knee was badly injured from the fall. Even now, I'm surprised she was able to board the train. I probably would have given up; I probably would have rolled into the fetal position and cried if my knee was both bruised and covered in fleshy raspberries.

The young man slipped his arms around her. At this point I was a full-on voyeur. I heard him whisper, "Thanks for running. I'm proud of you." He then got out his seat, dropped his shopping bags on the floor, and knelt down on one knee. He gingerly kissed his young love's injury like it was her lips on their first kiss. His designer jeans and his shopping bags were resting on old McDonald's bags and gum, but he didn't care about the mess on the floor. He whispered again, but this time more softly, "I'm proud of you."

The young lady looked down at him and shook her head. "You're stupid," she said as she coyly rolled her eyes. She pulled the crook of his arm and forced him back into the seat next to her. They gave each other the indescribable lover's smile, and I took their picture.