You're not supposed to be here

Leaving the underground station earlier today, I stepped through the barriers and looked up to see someone passing in the opposite direction. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have given him a second thought, and would have carried on my merry way, save for the fact that I knew this man somehow. He also looked up and our eyes met, and I read in his eyes the same mixture of recognition and puzzlement that were no doubt being expressed in mine. During the unspoken conversation that took place during that moment, we quickly established that we knew each other, but neither of us was entirely sure from where.

My mind immediately started whirring, trying to characterise the nature of our relationship. It had been a good while since we'd last seen each other, that much I knew - over a year, I'd guess, perhaps longer. We'd also never conversed. There many people I pass by each day, whose presence I acknowledge only as a form of background noise - that whilst they add colour and texture to my day, and everything would be eerily quiet were they to disappear, they don't contribute any real meaning. The sea of faces on the train I take each morning, for example, as we politely jostle for the too few seats available, or the people I pass by on the streets, as we each follow our well-trodden, and occasionally criss-crossing paths. Was he one of these? A face from the train or the street? The only other piece of information that I had to go on was that the context was all wrong. Wherever it was our paths had crossed before, it wasn't at this tube station. However, since this was along a path I regularly tread, I can only assume that I was where I was meant to be and he was the one out of place. I wonder where he was supposed to be?

It was too late to stop and find out for certain - the fates had decreed our encounter should be brief and the momentum of the passengers behind each of us swept us along. We were parted without ever really meeting.

I wonder who he was.