The Stranger (part 2)
One Tuesday morning, I was late for work as usual. I grabbed a dress, wrapped a belt around it, got a few touch ups on my face and ran out to the train station. I got out at Lionel-Groulx as usual, walked to the bench I always sit on and felt a green shadow following me by an inch. As I sat down, I realized it was him, the stranger, looking great in a simple green polo and a pair of jeans. And...