A man stands across the aisle from me. He's wearing tattered denim shorts and a loose button-down, striped shirt. Under his collar is a harmonica holder; the harmonica is still in position near his mouth, on the other side of which is his girl. She is not wearing makeup, which doesn't detract in the slightest from her beauty. Their conversation is held while the one is no more than three inches from the other, lips to lips, eyes to eyes. And even though her arms are around his neck and her sentences are frequently punctuated with proffered kisses, he still can't resist looking away periodically to play a few lazy chords and sing.
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