at yyz (toronto’s lester b. pearson beautiful terminal 1), i spied a cute guy waiting in the lounge at the same gate. “where’s he based out of?” i wondered.

on board, i was nestled in my seat, eyes closed, aware that at any moment someone would wake me up to clamber over my middle seat to get to their window seat….

it was an asian woman and no sooner did she sit down, she asked me if i could switch seats with her husband who had a middle seat four rows ahead. being the pushover i am, i agreed and stumbled up the aisle with a handful of carry-on luggage.

but look who is sitting across the aisle from me….! there is he in his somber cuteness. there’s me in a demure green waistcoast, white turtleneck, dangling earings that caught the light, and a fresh haircut….

and there’s the particularly self-absorbed man sitting in the aisle seat next to me who probably loved his aisle seat for the freedom to stumble repeatedly to the loo.

those were the occasions when we would talk. i asked him if he was going to vancouver for business and he is, until thursday. it was nice, and light, and had this golden glow thanks to ambient cabin lighting. a several-hour flirtation since the flight was five hours long. just what was needed to assuage the rot that would describe most of the toronto-weekend.

On this day..

• NPY's PotD*: Day Twenty-Six - 2011