Friday, July 13, 2007

In passing

An ancient blog post under Pay Attention.
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This was the time he liked best. On the five or ten kilometres home from the bus depot he would whistle, always tunelessly, and the sound would bounce off buildings that watched with glassy eyes. With all that sound and darkness around him he felt less alone.

He heard her before he saw her. Sharp steps from the heel of a woman’s shoe, but a slow pace. He made way for her, and in that movement they considered each other.

She thought, this man must be restless, to be out so early in the morning.

He thought, another pretty girl who’s meant to ride the bus with me. He might smile at her, because who knows?

And they passed each other with their eyes on the ground.

This is part five of a short-short story series, called Pay Attention.

That's all there is, there isn't any more.
© Desi Quintans, 2002 – 2016.