The perfect blonde. She's nearly his height, thin but not skinny, a southern girl, a midwestern girl, reading her book, or standing in the aisle, in her blue checkered shirt, talking, light shining through her hair. She glows, and it's unlikely she knows it.
He's happy with himself. He's losing weight, shedding body fat, talking comfortably with women, going on dates, having sex. A positive time in his life.
They're across the aisle. Worlds apart? Not that far. He knows he could get her talking, and then make her laugh, and then get her number, and then be enough fun that she'd see him again.
He reads. He leaves her to read. Their worlds are already closer than not.