Having forgotten my Morrissey autobiography at home, I just stared straight ahead at the subway map on my way home, when I heard a girl who was standing in front of me blurt out:

"You’re so pretty."

I looked up and there was a very striking 25-year-old brunette smiling abashedly at the the girl sitting next to me, a blush slowly growing on her cheeks. She looked like she was coming from work, wearing the requisite pencil cut grey miniskirt and white blouse. The girl next to me, a blonde I didn’t dare look at, was obviously stunned but managed to slightly laugh and respond:

"Oh, God, thank you - you’re so pretty. I love your hair."

The brunette, now with perhaps 20 pairs of eyes looking at her and in full blush, refused to believe the veracity of this returned compliment, and just shook her head and looked down and muttered:

"Aw, thanks…it’s…thanks."

A few stops later, without another word to each other, the brunette got off the train.

Carpe diem, young lady. Carpe diem.