Seattle, WA

Northbound on the Sound Transit Light Rail
We sat opposite one another, heading from the U district to my stop at Mountlake Terrace. New Year’s Eve. Around 9:30 p.m.
You: Olive-green button down. Beige khakis. Kind smile.
Me: Black blazer. Striped blouse. Mascara probably running down my face.
You asked if I was OK. I didn’t answer. Too busy staring at my phone, rereading that last message.
Decent guys are hard to come by nowadays. Would love to chat. I never got the chance to thank you.
Promise I’ll talk next time.

Paint-n-Sip Class in Fremont Neighborhood
In a class full of couples, I was the loner sitting behind you, next to an empty station. No sense letting a perfectly good Groupon deal go to waste!
You chose red wine. I chose beer.
Our teacher jokingly reminded us to remember which glass had the booze and which one had the ooze (dirty paint water). Everyone cracked up until I made that mistake.
You were so sweet to bring me water, gently slapping my back until I stopped coughing.
Care to savor a sunset instead of painting one?
I’m always up for spending time outside.

Food Sample Vendor at the Costco off Hwy 99
You gave me an extra chicken nugget after a sample hog cut me off. You even squeezed some BBQ sauce into a cup when no one was looking.
“Something extra,” you said, and I said, “You’re extra.”
You laughed and then I laughed and then we both laughed.
Wanna grab a real meal?

Waiting Room at the Dermatologist Office in Kirkland
We both had a rash on our arms. Yours was braille-like and dark red; mine was more abstract like a Jackson Pollock painting, if he painted in only pink. (I love Jackson Pollock!)
I could tell you were trying not to scratch, doing all these funny movements with your body. I totally get it.
That itch? It’s real.
I wanted to ask what happened, but then you stepped out, and I got called in.
Fancy a story swap?

Bedroom Department at the Kent IKEA
We were gauging the firmness of a king-sized mattress.
You lay down and I followed. Reflex, I suppose.
It was thrilling to lie there next to you, even for a moment, catching a whiff of your woodsy cologne as you shifted positions.
Your finger brushed against mine, and you jolted upright.
Did you feel a spark too?
Reach out (again) and let me know.
I don’t bite.

Self-Checkout at the Mount Vernon Walmart
We were picking up the same single-serve frozen dinners and off-brand 2-in-1 Shampoo Conditioner. When the barcode of my Fettuccine Alfredo box didn’t scan, you scanned yours so I wouldn’t have to wait for the attendant.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” I said, and you said, “Anytime.”
Did you really mean anytime?
How about tomorrow?
Any day is good, honestly.
Get in touch.
I’m interested to know what else we have in common.

Outside Target near Alderwood Mall
You were running out the automated doors. I was walking towards them. You glanced back and didn’t see me. When we collided, a bottle of Hennessy slipped out from under your dark blue hoodie and shattered on the ground. We locked eyes, and before I could apologize, you vanished.
Let me make it up to you.
With me, you won’t have to run anymore.

Porta-Potties before the Seattle Half-Marathon
You were in the line next to me. I was feeling anxious. Truth is, I’d only been training for a few days. Hey, better than nothing, right?
You looked so fit in those bright green shorts and matching compression sleeves, a heart rate sensor strapped around your toned chest.
Was your heart pounding as fast as mine?
“Come here often?” I said, and you shot me this curious look before taking off for the open stall as if the race had started.
Still curious?
How about we train together sometime?
I bet you have amazing stamina. 😉

RE: Missed Connections
You posted about me in the Missed Connections. I answered back. Twice, just in case. Did you get my messages?
I am the “cute” (according to my grandma), “tall” (well, tall-ish, depending on who’s next to me) “woman in her mid-30s” (close enough; age is so tricky to pin down!) at “Safeway last weekend”.
You spent a while in the produce section, checking out the ripeness of a cantaloupe.
It’s so hard to judge the sweetness of something from the outside.
Trust me, I know.
Sometimes you just have to take a chance.


Jennifer Lai lives in Washington state. She has work in HAD, Brilliant Flash Fiction, Emerge Literary Journal, New Flash Fiction Review, The Dribble Drabble Review, and elsewhere.
Header photography and artwork by Jordan Keller-Wilson
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