He lived in a world of conveniences and ease, and it irritated him. He knew it was foolish, even hypocritical, to disdain the things that brought him so much comfort, that saved him hours of time, that made him a modern man, but he did anyways. And what frustrated him even more was that he didn't have the willpower to simply refuse such conveniences. No one would understand why a young man his age didn't have a mobile phone or chose to wash his clothes by hand or sought all answers to his questions through the Dewey Decimal System. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to abandon the technology in his life anyways. Instead, he invested himself in making it painfully obvious to anyone in his path that he belonged in a different decade.
"Newsies called and they want their suspenders and hat back." Just another muffled insult hurled at him on the train.
By now he had grown accustomed to the stares, both curious and cantankerous. He found that the elderly and young children adored his garb as it reminded them of better days or playing dress-up. Middle aged business men glared at him for being so impractical. Teenaged boys and young men liked to heckle him with outright or whispered mirth and toss scoffs his way like stones. But the majority of girls and women seemed to get it. He knew the era he longed for held a certain romance, perhaps that was what they grasped in his appearance. Whatever it was, the teenaged girls stole shy, giggly glances at him while the matronly women often examined him for a long second proceeded by a hurried half grin before returning to their busy present. Young women either dismissed him immediately or were intrigued. Intrigue looked like a series of fleeting glances, aimed at his eyes rather than his clothes. Unlike the many more obvious reactions he encountered, intrigue was what he noticed most and responded to.
She wasn't the first girl to peer at him over the top of a book, but she was the first to catch his undivided attention. When he sensed a girl's curiosity, he figured it was gentlemanly to engage in a light conversation, whether it be asking about what she was reading, commenting on the weather, or paying her a simple compliment. This he proceeded to do quite soon after noticing their attention. But not today. She was different. Perhaps it was the Fitzgerald she was reading or the cat eye glasses she had on. Whatever it was, he was frozen. He knew beginning a conversation with her was imminent, but his sudden bout of nerves had him confused and his procrastination only made matters worse as nerves turned to panic.
What would he say? Whatever it was, it needed to be quickly. She could be getting off any minute.
"Heh hem. Would you like a peppermint?" The nerves and panic melted away into what felt a lot like embarrassment. Who offers a complete stranger a peppermint? But it had felt right. Peppermint made him think of commitment. Unlike a piece of gum, peppermints demanded to be held onto and savoured. And she made him think of peppermint.
