Bus Stop – Love

rural 1950s bus stop

I’d walked all morning in the humid air on the stupid chance of a job that never came to anything. Afterwards I had stopped to pick up some shopping at the grocery store near the corner of Aubry and Main. It was early afternoon and it was getting hotter.

I passed her as I walked to the bus stop with my bags. She was walking quickly towards me; appeared frantic. Her make-up was running slightly in the heat and her long black hair was clumping up where the sweat ran. She was wearing a little dress. She looked at me as she came past.

I went and sat at the bus stop. The bus was late. “Hi.”

She was standing near me. “Does the bus to Jackson leave from here any time soon?”

I said I didn’t know for sure, but I thought she’d just missed it. She told me her car had broken down. She had such amazing, big, dark, beautiful eyes. She kept glancing sideways at me with them as she tapped on her bag. Her lips were so full. I’d never wanted to kiss any lips more than hers. She was perfect, completely. Her short dress kept blowing up in the breeze and she had to keep one hand on it to stop it going all the way, but she hitched it higher and higher, making sure I saw every time. She continued looking at me with those eyes. God….this was an August Angel.

She told me she didn’t need any help with the car. I asked her if she was going all the way to Jackson but she said she was only travelling on about an hour to meet a friend. She asked where I lived.

She moved closer and sat down. I knew she wanted to move closer. I wanted her to. I wanted to hold her. Just touch her. She kept giving me these looks, smiles, looking me up and down, gaze resting on the tattoos on my arm. I saw her breath getting heavier – my, my, look at his gorgeous arms, I want him. She was delicately pale. Her dark hair made her skin look like wet silk. We talked a little, nervously, both of us trying to fill the gaps in the air and wanting to cross that two feet of chasm on the bench

My bus turned up. I wished her luck with her car. I didn’t know where she lived, her name, nothing. I got on the bus and took a seat at the window. She stepped on and asked the driver something, turning to look at me. I thought she might throw it all away and get on with me, take a ride and a chance on what her instincts were telling her, but she got off again and went and stood back in the dust. The Earth didn’t want to this to go any further. I knew it’d blow enough dust to smother the both of us if I left the bus and stood with her.

I wondered – since this kind of thing never happened to me – if I should wave. Or had I read the whole thing wrong? Was I just a creep? The bus pulled away. I looked over at the stop. She was standing there looking at me, head coyly down, smiling; blew me a small kiss. I smiled back. I loved her.


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