My morning commute on the subway usually followed the same pattern—keep your head down， your nose in a book， and try to survive the crowds. So when I sensed someone looking at me I felt annoyed. I looked up to see a tall， attractive man， but his eyes weren’t focused on me—he was staring into space， with headphones on. Among all the businessmen， his casual outfit of a grey woolly hat， navy coat and jeans stuck out.
　　I wasn’t in the habit of noticing men on the subway—of course， you see people come and go， but no one had been so memorable before. As the weeks went by， I began to search him out—he was so tall I could spot him by looking for his head above the crowd. It helped that we were creatures of habit and both headed for the front of the first carriage.
　　Twice a week I’d see him and always when I was running late. After the third time， he looked back， and from then on we would exchange glances but nothing more. At work I’d mention to my friends if I had seen my “subway crush”， but I didn’t let myself 1）fantasise about him—the chances of us ever actually talking， let alone living happily ever after， were so remote that it would be foolish to dream. But I looked forward to seeing him， and was glad when I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
　　Then disaster struck. He disappeared. Weeks went by without a sighting and I felt darker and darker. After a month， I vowed that if I ever saw him again， I had to say something； it might be my only chance.
　　On a wintry Monday last January， I was 2）stranded on the platform， knee-deep in snow， fretting because I hadn’t managed to get on to the packed train， when he materialised next to me.“I’ve got snow in my pants，” he said and did a 3）shimmy. We both laughed and then began to chat. As we boarded the next train， I was aware that everyone around us was 4）eavesdropping， so I felt self-conscious but also thrilled. We had lots in common and the conversation flowed. The only problem was that he was giving me all the right signs that he was interested but he didn’t ask for my number. As my stop approached， I realised it was now or never—I had to do something. The train pulled in， and I shoved my business card in his hand and leapt off.
　　As I dashed away， heart pounding， I felt a mixture of elation and 5）mortification. Why didn’t he ask for my number？ Had I been too pushy？ Friends at work reassured me and I waited for his call.
　　In this city， the etiquette of when to call is clear—within a few days and definitely before the weekend. By the end of the week he still hadn’t， so when I saw him on the train I tried to hide. 　　It was obvious that he didn’t want to go out with me. To my dismay， he came over and started to chat. I decided I was clearly a pity case to him， so when he asked what I was doing on the weekend， I made myself sound hugely busy and super-cool to hide my hurt pride. Unsurprisingly， he didn’t mention meeting up.
　　Then， on Monday， he emailed， asking me out. I was delighted. I don’t normally like dating—the nerves， the awkwardness， that stilted first conversation—but I was nothing but excited to see Josh and the evening went wonderfully. We ended up going to his brother-in-law’s birthday party and I met his family. It didn’t feel strange or 6）nerve-racking； it felt natural.
　　We moved in together 10 months later and got married last September. As a nod to where we met， we had a subway train on top of the cake and the tables were named after different train lines—ours was the 4 train， naturally.
　　Josh has since told me that after I gave him my card， he was hugely flattered—he was planning to call me that Friday， but after bumping into me and hearing how “busy” I was， he decided to wait until Monday to make contact.
　　Getting together felt like 7）kismet—it was destined to happen. We unravelled all the random events that led us to be on that same train together and marvel that we ever met. We still take the 4 train into work， but now we sit together.
　　通常在早上搭地铁上班时我都依循一样的模式——低着脑袋，鼻子埋到书上，希望在拥挤的人群中熬过来。所以当我察觉有人在看我时，我感到很恼火。我抬起眼，看到一位高大的魅力男士，但他的目光并非落在我身上——他空洞地瞪着眼，戴着耳机。在周遭上班族的包围下，他那头戴灰色羊毛帽，身穿深蓝色外套和牛仔裤的一身休闲打扮显得格外扎眼。
　　我没有那种在地铁里留意男人的习惯——当然，会看着人群来来往往，但之前从未遇到过一个让人印象如此深刻的人。这样过了几周，我开始寻找他——他长得很高，往人群之上瞧准能锁定目标。而且我们都是那种有固定习惯的人，都喜欢朝车头第一节车厢挤，这有助于我找到他。
　　我一周会碰到他两次，通常是在自己快赶不上地铁的时候。经过第三次后，他回头望了我，并从那时开始我们会交换眼神，但也就仅此而已。上班时我会跟朋友们聊起那天我有没有遇到我的“地铁情缘”，但我没让自己痴迷上他——就连真实地说说话的机会都如此渺茫，更不用说什么从此以后幸福地生活在一起了，所以我不会蠢到去做这样的梦。不过我还是期待能见到他，并且很高兴地发现他没戴婚戒。
　　接着，灾难来了。他消失了。几周过去，我一眼都没见着他，这让我感到越来越忧郁难过。一个月后，我发誓如果我再见到他，我一定得说点什么；这可能是我唯一的机会了。
　　在去年一月的一个寒冷的星期一，我被困在站台上，站在齐膝的雪中。在我正为没法登上拥挤的列车而烦恼时，他突然出现在我旁边。“我的裤子里也进雪了。”他说着，抖了抖身子。我们俩都笑了然后开始聊起天来。就在我们上了后面的那趟列车后，我发现周围的每个人都在偷听，所以我感到不太自在，却也仍兴奋不已。我们有很多共同点，谈话顺利进行。唯一的问题是他一直表现出对我有好感但就是不问我要号码。就在我要到站的时候，我意识到那一刻可能是最后机会了——我必须做些什么。列车进站，我把我的名片塞进他手里然后一跃下了车。
　　我匆匆地走了，心砰砰地跳，感到既高兴又羞愧。为什么他不问我要号码？我是不是太唐突了？公司里的朋友安抚我，而我则等待他的来电。
　　在这座城市里，何时致电的规矩是很清楚的——在几天内且必定在周末前。一周过去了他都没给我电话，所以当我在列车上看到他时我尽量避开来。
　　很显然他不想和我约会。使我惊慌失措的是他走过来和我聊天。我认定自己对于他来说显然就是一个要说对不起的对象，于是当他问及我周末有什么安排时，我便让自己听上去超级忙和超级镇静来掩饰我那受了伤的自尊。不出所料，他没有提到见面的事。
　　然后，到了周一，他发来邮件，约我出去。我高兴极了。通常我都不喜欢约会——那种神经紧张，那种笨拙尴尬，还有那生硬的第一次交谈——但与乔什见面，我只感到无比兴奋，那一晚，我们过得美妙无比。我们最后去了他姐夫的生日聚会并见了他的家人。对此我没感到奇怪或伤脑筋；一切感觉很自然。
　　十个月后我们住在了一起，去年九月份我们结了婚。为了对我们相遇的地方表示敬意，我们在蛋糕上放了一个地铁列车的饰物，而餐桌都以不同的地铁线路来命名——而我们的桌子自然就是地铁4号线了。
　　乔什后来跟我说收到我给他的名片后，他感到受宠若惊——他原本打算在周五给我打电话，但后来却碰到了我，听到我说何其“忙”后，他决定等到周一再和我联系。
　　这段情缘犹如天命——注定要发生。我们分析所有致使我们搭上同一趟列车的随机事件，惊讶于我们竟能一度相遇。我们仍旧搭地铁4号线去上班，只是现在我们坐在一起。