WATERSHED MEETING

Being in theater hour in a subway is one hell of a pleasure. In this motley crowd, you can meet anyone: here, after a hard day's work, tired of the transactions return home Monero and Ripple; that's a whole family of numerous Dash forks, at once so diverse, and so same, that are rattling their masternodes; here the old man Bitcoin is sitting and quietly reading the newspaper, and opposite him, under the rhythmic beat coming from the speakers, the noisy company of Ethereum tokens rides to ICO, and the elderly lady BitShares is frowning on them from beneath her hat…
You are lazily shifting your gaze from one passenger to another, trying to keep yourself busy with something and while away the time. And then you notice her... And from the first seconds you do not understand how you could not notice this raven-head hottie before? How did you see all the others all this time and did not see HER?! She was just perfect, and everything was beautiful in her: her unique code was mesmerizing, the speed of transactions was driving me crazy, and with all this she was anonymous and mysterious, like a dark night! It was definitely a coin of my dreams! It was necessary to decide: either now or never! I will not be able to forgive myself for my indecision, if she will go out of a train at the next station, and dissolve in a crowd of other coins. Minutes turned into eternity. I had the brass to make several steps in her direction.

• "Good evening," I said, turning to the stranger.
  "Hello," she answered with a good-natured ease.
  I relaxed a bit and continued:
• "I know that getting acquainted in a subway is boorish, and of course I never do so, but ...".
• “DeepOnion,” she said cutesy and smiled.
• "Sorry, what?" I asked, seeing my beautiful companion began to move towards the exit from the metro coach. I realized that now we would arrive at her station and began to reproach myself for my indecision and for time wasting, until I dared to speak to her.
  -"My name is DeepOnion,” she answered, smiling once more again, and with the words: "See you later," she handed me something before fluttering out of the subway car.
  In the salon, remained only a linger of her perfume, and in my hands, there was a stylish business card of a dark color with a neat inscription: DeepOnion.org.