Happenstance

She had her life mapped out in Faith; he lived as if tomorrow were a suggestion.

Happenstance

          The 5:47 PM rush on the Red Line smelled of coffee, wool coats, and the faint tang of snow. Chicago in 2025 still clung to its subway system like an old friend, even as autonomous taxis glided soundlessly aboveground. C.J. Mallone leaned against the glass, a lukewarm coffee in hand. He'd loosened his tie halfway through his shift at the marketing firm and now studied the city's neon-reflected snowfall through the train's windows. Perfect, he thought. A life of small pleasures and no attachments.

          Across the car, Meghan Harris stood still for a moment, eyes scanning the platform as if taking inventory of the world she was about to leave. The subway, for her, was an odd but necessary detour before the real destination: the cloistered monastery she would join next month, where her nights would be spent in prayer and her days in silent labor. Her decision to become a nun had been solidified long before she could remember the taste of a subway sandwich. Yet, life has a way of sprinkling unexpected ingredients into even the most carefully measured recipes.

          The train lurched into the Clark Street station, and C.J. nearly spilled his drink as if someone had bumped into him.

          "Oh!" A voice, soft but firm. "Your tie's caught on my earring."

          C.J. looked down. A silver stud, simple, timeless, was snagged in his silk navy tie. The woman beneath him had dark curls haloed by the train's amber lights, her eyes wide with apologetic humor. Not a model, not a barista, not the kind of girl who'd send his pulse ricocheting. And yet.

          Meghan blushed as she tugged free. "I'm so clumsy."

          "No harm," C.J. said, though his coffee had soaked her sleeve. "Let me buy you a drink. As compensation."

          She hesitated. The train shuddered to a stop at Lincoln Park. A digital billboard outside flashed: "New Year, New You! Monastic Retreats Start Jan 1!"

          "Aren't you supposed to be heading the other way?" she asked, noting his downtown suit.

          "I'm heading to nowhere, actually," C.J. said. "My apartment's just a UBERMEX away. You?"

          "Nowhere's a bit of a trip for me," Meghan said, tapping her satchel. "But I've booked a midnight shuttle."

          C.J. raised an eyebrow. "Monastery life? You're one of those 'find yourself' types?"

          "A monastery's not a life choice," she said, smiling. "It's a life
commitment. And I've had... time to think about it."

          He studied for her. No rose-tinted idealist, her eyes held something quieter, heavier. "What made you decide?"

          "My grandfather used to say the world's too loud to hear your own heart," she said. "I guess I'm... tired of listening to everyone else's noise."

          C.J. chuckled. "Sounds like you're escaping me."

          "Maybe," she said, and he liked that glint in her eyes.

          They disembarked at the same stop, the frigid air stinging their cheeks. Snow fell in delicate spirals, and for a moment, the city paused beneath the artificial glow of streetlamps.

          "So, what about you?" Meghan asked. "Forever bachelor?"

          C.J. stiffened, then shrugged. "Complicated. Relationships are just... noise."

          "Is that what you think?"

          "Grandfather saying," he lied, and she didn't press.

          They walked in silence until the train doors shut.

          "Wait," C.J. said. "You're not even going to get my number?"

          Meghan smiled. "Would you give me yours?"

          He hesitated. "If I did..., would it change your mind?"

          "About the monastery?" She laughed. "C.J., I've waited my whole life to do this."

          By the time the train pulled away, they both turned, each moving in opposite directions--C.J. heading toward the bright advertisement-lit streets of downtown, Meghan toward the quieter, more shadowed avenues that led to the university and eventually, to the cloister's gates. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the city in a white hush that seemed to promise both endings and beginnings.

          They both paused and turned around.

Word Count: 642