There was nothing unusual about that summer day of May the 13th, 2010. He had become used to the troubles the decision to move into a new apartment halfway across town had brought in his life. Finding an empty seat in a corner of the compartment, he sat down, plugged his earphones in, and started work on that day's The New York Chronicle Crossword.
Feeling someone's gaze on him, he looked up just in time to see her as yet half-formed smile. There she was, seated opposite him - dark brown eyes, long blonde hair, rose buds for lips. He had never quite seen anyone like her. All of a sudden, she rose, came up to him and sat adjacent, smiling an other-worldly beautiful smile all this while. He was as taken aback as everyone else when she gently rested her head on his shoulder, took the blue marker from his shocked hand and started helping out with the crossword.
"Betty" she said, even before he could ask her name. The subway was milling with the late morning crowds, and he didn't realize she had left until long afterwards.
The same thing happened the next day, the day after, and the one after that. They met on the train, did the crossword, he talked, she listened. She seemed a very quiet girl indeed. Apart from her one word answer on the first day, she hadn't spoken anything else, not even asking him his name. But he didn't notice. He asked for her number, and she gave one. But when he called that evening, no one answered. When he asked her about it, she smiled a smile that made him forget why he was mad at her.
That evening, she came to his new place. They had decided to paint the apartment together. She had brought along a sackful of old dusty newspapers to ensure the paint didn't get on things it wasn't supposed to. She plastered the windows with the papers and they got to work. They worked hard all evening and late into the night, stopping only for the Chinese takeout from the neighbourhood vendor. Once they were too exhausted to go on any further, she unveiled the gift she had hidden from him all evening - a beautiful but delicate wind-chime. He smiled, put it up near a window and dozed off, tired, not knowing when she left.
He woke up the next morning and smiled contently when he saw what a wonderful job they'd done with the paint. The wind-chime tinkled as a gentle breeze blew across the room. It reminded him of her and he came across to have a closer look. That's when his eyes fell on something written on one of the newspapers plastered on an adjacent window. It was a New York Chronicle front-page carrying news of a deadly motor car accident. the victim - a 21 year old woman named Betty Williams, her smiling photograph next to one of the mangled remains of the car. The date on the newspaper - May the 13th, 1995.
It was her. A tear escaped his eyes as he realized he would never see her again. But from that day on, the wind-chime tinkled whenever his beloved Betty paid him a visit.
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