The week had ended, the weekend had arrived, and summer was slipping away, making room for autumn....
STORY
The week had ended, the weekend had arrived, and summer was slipping away, making room for autumn.
Clutching her bag tightly to her chest, she rushed out of the office, nearly running to the bus stand. The bench was full, forcing her to wait before she finally found a spot to sit.
The sky was heavy with the promise of rain, murky clouds rolling in, turning the air crisp and cool. It was a treat, this weather; it was the kind of weather she savored, the kind that felt as if the rain could wash away her tangled, tired thoughts—and perhaps her loneliness too.
She had family, friends, and coworkers—people all around her—but above it all loomed a shadow, dark and relentless. Loneliness, deep and suffocating, clung to her heart like the cold, crooked fingers of death, as still and eerie as a silent graveyard. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that no one truly understood her. They saw her smile, but they missed the sadness underneath, the happy façade she wore day and night, the charade that slowly consumed her.
As the first thunder rumbled and most of the crowd boarded their buses, she snapped out of her reverie, realizing that her bus was late. With the rain starting to fall, she breathed in the earthy scent of wet soil. It was enough to lift her spirits, to bring a twinkle to her eyes and set old songs playing in her mind. Maybe there was still hope to salvage the day from the ordinary and mundane.
With a small smile, she pulled out her diary and placed her bag beside her on the now empty bench. Writing was her solace, her joy. Each word she penned brought a warmth that spread through her, as steady and comforting as a pendulum swing. It was in these moments that she felt truly alive, apart from when she daydreamed, of course.
Completely absorbed in her writing, she barely noticed the gentle tap on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up, her annoyance evident, and met his gaze. Dark, curious eyes stared back at her, mingled with concern. "Uh, I think that's your bus. You'll miss it if you don't hurry," he said.
Dumbfounded, she quickly gathered her things and thoughts. Shielding her head with her bag, she ran and caught the bus just in time. Standing in the doorway, she turneback to the stranger with the captivating dark eyes.
"I was reading what you wrote! Over your shoulder!" he called out. "It was good! What's your name? Tell me your name..."
She simply stood there, gazing at him, silently locking the moment away in her memory—another sweet fragment to store in the softest corner of her heart. As his raised hand dropped to his side and he shook his head in disappointment, she smiled.
That smile. Those honeyed eyes, filled with both happiness and sadness, caught him completely off guard. Something deep inside him stirred. He had seen her from his car while waiting at a traffic signal. He parked, crossed the street, and found himself beside her, intrigued by her and the words she wrote. Watching her was mesmerizing, indescribable. And when she ran for the bus, looking at him with those silent eyes, it left him with one clear thought: he had to see her again.
The weekend would separate them, but he knew that Monday would bring her back to the bus stop. And this time, he would be prepared. This time, he wouldn’t let her slip away.
