8am in the morning is not my favourite time of day. Especially when I have to be on the morning train to show up and serve my 8 hours at work. In zombie mode before my first coffee, I am stuck in my daydream, nested away in my own little world.
I was staring blankly across the train until I saw the Logan Echolls personified. Logan Echolls, the troubled bad boy of Veronica Mars fame, the one of LoVe, destined to be embroiled in epic love with Veronica.
He was dressed in a brown well-fitted polo shirt and jeans, crouched over his seat, somewhat nevrously tossing a football between his hands. His gaze was confident, if not slightly apprehensive and detached. Somehow, he looked sad, carrying the same killer brood that Logan always had.
My stare shaded by the reflective gaze of my aviators, I observed him intently. Logan was lost in his own little world too - it seems to me he is hatching a grand plan of some kind, perhaps a grand gesture to get Veronica back. Or maybe he is on his way to meet Duncan, who is supposedly in Australia.
The train comes to a halt as it approaches the final stop, waiting for the oncoming train to pass. Logan flinches and tosses the football between each hand harder, more loudly. He is impatient, as am I, to get off the train.
The train finally moves, we stop at the station and I watch him breathe a sigh as he walks away from me.
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