Zion

The city was shrouded in dusk, and I, tired but content after another productive day at my dream job, simply savored the cool air. Three years in this field had flown by, and these walks had become my only way to "recharge."
The metro, as usual at this time, was stuffy. At the next stop, the crowd surged into the car, completely depriving me of any personal space. I felt someone pressed tightly against me from behind. Resistance was futile—the car lurched, and on a sharp turn, the stranger, to keep from falling and crushing me, wrapped his arms around my waist, literally pressing me into him. His chin touched the top of my head, and I froze.
"Sorry," a low, velvety voice rang out in my ear. "There are too many people, I have almost no control over it..."
I looked up at the dark glass window that served as a mirror, and my heart skipped a beat. Looking back at me was a broad-shouldered, muscular man, almost twice my height. A handsome, mature face... and those eyes. A flash of memory flashed through my mind: eighth grade, and a boy a year younger than me, with whom I'd secretly fallen in love. The same one I hadn't thought about for years.
It was him. But now, standing before me, it wasn't that teenager at all, but a stately stranger from the past.