separate.

there's an guy wandering through this city who looks just like his dog.

he's big, bearish and a friendly, smiling, bearded red-head. and so is his giant dog.
i'm not sure whether he's homeless or not, but he's defintely one on the outskirts of society, with the tell-tale face that long-term alcohol consumption gives.
but he's cool, and so is his dog.

after weeks of seeing them on the tram, one day this last summer, i said hello and told him that i thought he had a really cool dog. "you two look perfect together", i said.
"we are", he replied, going on to tell me that they had the same mentality as well.

every time we've been on the tram together, every time i've seen them in town, we've said hello and briefly talked.

i hadn't seen the two of them for a while.
wednesday morning, on the way home from the gym, the guy's on the #5 tram.
without his dog.

i sit down a few seats away from him, not sure whether he's seen me, in what state he's in right now, whether i should say hello, whether something is wrong with his dog. i think these thought continously for the entire 9 minute ride into the city center. i'm already sad about something having happened to his dog. i worry. just a little.

as i get ready to unboard the tram, the guy sees me, smiles at me and says hello.
"how are you, and where's your dog?", i ask him.
"oh, he's fine. no worries. i left him at home today, in this weather."
"wow, that's good to hear. seeing you alone on the tram, i already worried he wasn't well. i've never seen you too seperately." i tell him, realising my mistake that same moment, knowing how weird that sounds.
we both laugh.
the tram stops, we say goodbye and i hop of the tram, smiling broadly.

i don't stop smiling for a few hours.
are there better ways to make a day better than random heartfelt conversations with strangers?

i don't think so.