I’m front of me two young women sit, brimming to the teeth with lust and love for one another.

The one in white looks wishful at her counterpart sometimes whispering a word to her.

Her counterpart stares at her phone not really doing anything.

Later she glides her head on the first ones shoulder and then gets up again.

And the air becomes visible.

Their lib sticks are nearly equal, their lips look made for one another.

Their hesitation may just be social and I wonder and I hope I don’t miss gender either of them.

Like a bad romance novel I want to call after them as they leave the train: go get them.

Don’t worry to hurt, where there is joy there is pain.

Go there and do what you feel.

Kiss those lips and be free.