About a month ago, I had an unexpected encounter with a girl on the Southern. It was around
10pm, and I was on my way to St Pancras when a teenage girl boarded the train. The carriage
was empty except for the two of us. I was engrossed in my Edgar Allan Poe collection, but from
the corner of my eye I noticed her pacing up and down the aisle. About five minutes later, she
approached me and asked if she could borrow my phone to call a friend.
We ended up talking and in that conversation, I learned she was heading to a Halloween party
with no money, no phone, and nothing but three Buzzballs and a dream. I couldn’t help but be
intrigued. She had a bright, self-assured energy and the kind of personality that makes you feel
as though you’ve stepped into the middle of someone else’s story just for a moment. Talking to
her made me realise I kind of wished I’d gone harder in my own teenage years and just let
myself have more fun. Before that, I had been having an absolutely horrible day and wanted
nothing more than to just reach Notts and sleep my anger off. But this interaction brightened up
my night, something I had absolutely not expected.
There’s a special kind of tenderness in the moments we share with people we’ll never see
again. Whether it’s a stranger making you laugh while waiting at a bus stop, a girl complimenting
your outfit in the Rock City bathrooms, or a brief exchange on a late-night train, these fleeting
interactions sit quietly in the back of our minds and resurface long after they’re over.
I think part of what makes these exchanges so memorable is their simplicity. They catch us off
guard, arriving without expectation or obligation. In a life filled with schedules, responsibilities,
and the pressure to maintain conversations and relationships, these moments require nothing
from us. They’re pure in a way that everyday interactions rarely are.
Because we don’t know the person well, and may never see them again, we’re freed from
self-consciousness. We can be kinder, bolder, softer, and more open. The connection exists
entirely in that moment, and that makes it a little brighter.
Modern life can make us feel isolated, even when surrounded by people. Fleeting interactions
cut through that loneliness in a gentle way and they remind us that we are part of something
larger, a shared human experience.
These tiny moments prove that not every important connection has to turn into a friendship or a
follow on Instagram. Sometimes someone can just walk into your day, make it better, and
disappear again, and that’s enough.