It ain't easy bein' greasy.

A three-day-unshowered dirtball who only wants to get drunk Rena-style, with her hair oily enough to fry a dozen eggs on?

A hag with bags under her eyes—bags heavy enough to need a luggage cart?

That was who I was now.

A diva who had soap opera worthy sobbing sessions.

A she-Hulk, slamming doors in extreme anger.

That de-fricking-Prisco diamond ring of promise and duty did not lie heavily on my finger anymore, yet its absence burdened me in an equal manner.

I had to do it. I had to take my life back before I turned into someone else. And yet...

A break-up sucked—even if you were the one who had said them famous words: "You and I are absolutely perfect but not for each other. I think we need some time away from one another, like forever..."

Even if I was the dumper and not the dump-ee...

A break-up caused an achy-breaky heart for both parties.

A little voice kept screaming at me.

Hey, did you know that those were five lost years of your life?

That was a poor choice, you time waster. So many reasons against this match made in hell, and you should have seen them coming. You just weren't meant to be.

And—you hurt someone telling them what you both had wasn't good enough. That he was not good enough for you.

That you weren't compatible.

Most of the time, I did a good job of ignoring that little voice.

It did not always work, though.

Especially when my mom called, pleading Jayden's case and trying to convince me to get back with him. 

There was no way in hell I'd do that. 

Getting together again with an ex was like taking a shower and then putting your dirty underwear back on.

And now, I was back on the Red Line train.

Commuting from Braintree to Harvard on a regular basis after a two-month hiatus.

Things could have been worse. I adored the neighborhood, and the sense of familiarity might help me to get through it all. Or so I hoped.

Shooing off the negative thoughts, I swiped the home screen of my drawing tablet, diving into the "Fairy Tails' project. It would soon be ready for querying.

Fantasy was a perfectly valid form of escapism. Especially the one I was creating myself.

My eyes lingered on a scrawny stubbly elf with a the-terrorist-have-already-won curly hairdo, a pinocchio-had-sex-with-an-eagle styled nose, and bunny ears.

Magical sparks flew all around his hair.

Like Mr. Ruffles. Our encounters had been magical.

Where was he now?

Did he still travel the Red Line in the opposite direction, at this same time?

Would his hair porn magic still be as strong as I remembered it? Making me smile, no matter what?

My shoulders slumped.

No.

No amount of his or my tissues combined could save me from this deluge.

Mr. Ruffle Bunny's smiley umbrella would not be able to prevent the upcoming storm in the corners of my eyes.

I was too far down Donut Carb road to ever even consider his carrot.

Yet this little illustration, the perfect final version, was mine, and it made him part of my life now and forever.

Frozen in space and in time on my tablet.

His soul stolen to become a sketch-piece of my heart.

A sudden movement in the train next to mine made me look up.

When the heck did we stop? Which station were we even at?

A window-poised baby Yoda figurine was waving at me! Its adorable button-black eyes almost blinking in my direction, offering soothing, cooing vibrations.

I thought I heard its voice in my head. You must unlearn what you have learned, Iris. The greatest teacher, the failure is.

"Listen to you, I will, oh wise Baby Master." I whispered, taking in a deep breath.

This must have been a sign!

A tuft of dark curly hair and adorable button-brown eyes appeared behind the baby Yoda plushie, alongside with a disarming smile.

A little girl was holding the toy, pointing at my chest excitedly.

She probably had spotted a stain there. I looked down, expecting the worst.

Oh, it wasn't a stain. My relatively clean t-shirt was the Baby Yoda Feed me and tell me that I'm pretty one.

Before I left my place this morning, I was also torn between the one on which Princess Leia was telling Obi Wan: "Help me Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope," and all-the-colors-of-the-rainbow Stormtrooper one, too. 

Baby Yoda won hands down! 

Good choice, Iris. Even if it wasn't on purpose.

The broad smile on the girl's face was so contagious, I had to beam as well.

Smiling along side her, it was just like being a child again.

I heart-saluted the little geek-to-be, and she heart-saluted me back.

These were the moments I lived for on the train.

Forming meaningful bonds with other humans over things we both loved, no matter how short-lasting they might have been.

And hey, at least it wasn't a "let's connect over how badly our brackets are busted" bond.

The little girl had perfect, gleaming teeth. While every damn one of mine was crooked—and a sweet tooth, too.

An idea light bulb floated over my head.

As if with a will of their own, my fingers had excavated a pair of jelly worms from one of my pockets and stuffed them into my mouth, their tails still hanging over my chin.

Like Baby Yoda about to swallow a frog.

Going with the vibe, I slurped the things in, making them disappear in a moment—like Baby Yoda sucked up frog legs.

Laughter lit up the girl's face.

I grinned. If there was anything I liked doing in my life apart from drawing, it was making other people smile. 

There was something so wholesome about brightening someone else's day. 

Another waving hand caught my attention as my train shook, announcing its imminent departure.

Not in a million years would I have been prepared for what I saw when I looked up.

It was him.

Mr. Ruffles Bunny!

My heart did a somersault. It reached out for the other acrobat's arms to hoist it, sorely missed, and promptly got smashed into million pieces on the circus floor.

Wait a second... 

The girl... was she his daughter?

He... had a family? With a wife and all?

No wonder the little girl has got that perfect, dazzling smile. And those lush, soft curls, I thought, trying to somehow pick up my heart-shards. 

His smile. His curls.

The two looked so lovely together.

An unblemished picture of family perfection.

By the time the train was speeding away from what I now knew was Charles/MGH station, I was already running on auto-pilot.

I glanced at the magical Mr. Ruffles Bunny illustration for the last time.

All this time, during all these months, I had been imagining we had something special. Each of our train encounters had left a deep mark on my heart.

But it was all in my head. 

He wasn't mine. He had his own world and his own family.

Mr. Ruffles Bunny was not real. 

He was nothing but a silly dream.

My finger touched the delete button.

"Do you really want to delete this picture?" Letters on the screen were now asking me if I was sure what I was doing. 

Yes. I confirmed.

And it was gone, just like that, hopefully taking that figment of my imagination with it.