Implications
He watched her from afar, careful not to catch her eye. She was alone, or so he thought, staring at a book in her lap in front of her. The train jerked, snapping him of his thoughts, causing her to look up. Their eyes met for a split second and she immediately turned to her book again. He decided to make a move, against every thought in his mind, he needed to talk to her, that's all there was to it.
Slowly he weaved his way through the people standing in the train, until he was standing above her. Immediately he noticed the author of the book, Stephen King. "The girl has an imagination, that's for sure," he thought, smirking to himself. He took a step towards her, as the train jerked, coming to the next stop. With that, there was no doubt he had her attention.
"Sorry…" he said, meekly.
"That's ok," she said, placing the bookmark into her book carefully, "I'm used to it."
He laughed involuntarily at her obvious sarcasm and obvious annoyance.
"I'm Peter," he said, extending his hand. She smiled slightly, evidently amused by his insecurities.
"Claire…" she said, the smile still tugging at the corners of her lips, "Is this your stop?"
"Uhhh…" he said, trying to think fast, "actually yea it is…" He noticed the look on her face, and the small nod she gave as she turned to exit the train as the doors opened. They headed up the stairs and out onto the street. He turned to face her to say bye, but something else came from his lips.
"You want to get a cup of coffee?" he asked, trying to hide the boldness and his surprise that it even came out of his mouth.
She looked up almost as shocked as he was, then spotted a nearby café. She studied him for a couple seconds, debating who he really was, and why he would be asking her to spend more time with him.
"Sure…that'd be nice," she said.
He jerked awake, looking around at his surroundings. He remembered then that he was in the taxi. He rubbed his eyes, unsure of which vision was real and which was a dream, but he slowly began to realize that the woman was only something in his mind. He looked ahead to the bumper to bumper traffic jam, and immediately hopped out. He threw $15 into the passenger's side window and headed down the street. He tried to forget the previous recurring dreams he'd had, though different, this one was just as real. As he trying to convince himself that dreams couldn't possibly predict his future, he remembered a train station around the next corner. He continued walking, entertaining the thought that this dream could come true. He rounded the corner and looked down the steps and thought, "Why not?"