I Found El Dorado

Twice.

"Why didn't God make us all rich and healthy?"

I was on the train this morning, half-way between reality and illusion, when we made the usual stop at Grove Street. A man got on the train and took the seat across from me. He was wearing a black wind breaker with the hood up, blue jeans, and comfortably-worn-out tennis shoes. Hanging from his shoulder was a rather large Eddie Bauer book bag, which he placed on the floor between his feet. He pulled back his hood and I checked.

He was beautiful. Not 'handsome', not 'hot', and not 'cute', but beautiful.

He was well proportioned, but average in height and built. His eyes were the most brilliant citrine color, deep and yet translucent. His hair was a mass of copper ringlets, gleaming underneath the poor lighting of the Path Train. His sharp nose, rose bud lips and cherubic cheeks made his appearance hover somewhere between teenager and adult. It was impossible to tell which he was.

I watched as he opened his book bag and rummaged through its contents. Finally, he pulled out a small writing pad. The front pages were scribbled on in curvy handwriting, and the corners were frayed from use. He flipped through it until he found and empty page, and then put his pen to the paper. Suddenly, he looked up at me, and I looked away quickly, embarrassed that he had caught me staring at him.

"Why didn't God make us all rich and healthy?"

I glanced at him, and he was looking right at me. I suddenly gained interest in my shirt sleeve, which allowed me to avert my eyes.

"Why didn't God make us all rich and healthy?" he asked again. This time, I realized that he was talking to me. And he was expecting a response.

My mind raced, and I stared at him stupidly. I needed a good solid answer, which shouldn't be difficult, right? I'm on the MSA Dawah committee, this shouldn't be a problem, right?

Wrong.

I couldn't think of anything that would make sense. I realized that now everyone on the train was looking at me, and I at the man sitting across from me.

The train stopped at the Journal Square Station, and the man stood up. He still looked at me expectantly, and I fumbled for words, anything at all. Finally, I sighed.

"I don't know," I admitted ashamedly. I could feel the heat creep up the back of my neck, turning my cheeks the slightest shade of pink.

The man swung his Eddie Bauer book bag over his shoulder and smiled, revealing two rows of straight teeth.

"Because then we wouldn't need each other," he said as he pulled his hood back on.

Then he disappeared off the train just as smoothly as he had appeared.