The Bus Stop
The Bus Stop
He looked at his watch for the thousandth time. A car rattled past the bus stop while the rain seemed to whisper her name. The darkness was a cloak of misery and the rain a veil of tears. A few wilting flowers hung from one of the shelter’s uprights.
She appeared in the distance, like a goddess walking to her thrown. A smile spread across his face, and his heart quickened. The moon appeared from behind a cloud to stare at them. Her nimble fingers discarded the dead roses and replaced them with four fresh ones.
The bus arrived, and they headed for the night shift. Her eyes never saw him, and although they always sat together, they never spoke.
Then he was back at the bus stop. Across the road, a housing estate had risen from the ground, and he'd watched, brick being cemented to brick.
A grey-haired woman came towards him. She stood next to him, produced four roses and tied them to the upright, her face wrinkled, but familiar. A tear fell from her eye as her hand tenderly touched the upright and her lips kissed the flowers.
She whispered, "I'll never forget you." His mind drifted and he found himslef staring down on the scene. A warm contentedness relaxed his shoulders and all tension left him. As her car pulled away from the kerb, he knew there was no need to wait for the bus.
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