She sits afar with a book in her hand. One might mistake her for a student with her youthful bobbed hair. Strange as it seems, her dress flows even without the trace of wind. Why is she there, no one knows; perhaps she is waiting for someone.
All in a breath, in tick of the minute-hand, in a snippet of time – she turns to look afar beyond the train of cars, beyond her train of thought. Her eyes meets his as he looks across the bus stop. They hold each other’s gaze for awhile, as though some divine thread ties them together for a moment beyond a lifetime.
Taking a leap of faith, he takes the first few steps to cross the road. It is a busy lane with many cars, but momentary gaps emerge between the boxed vehicles moving monotonously along the concrete lanes.
Finally, he reaches the bus stop where she sits. Panting and gasping for breath out of sheer exhilaration at his move and the heat from the weather, he walks towards her, suddenly conscious of his sweat-drenched shirt and clammy hands.
The lady continues to study him as he moves towards her, calm eyes observing his pace and gestures as he sits down beside her.
A good moment of silence ensues between them, until, finally, the man decides to start.
“I don’t know why I did that…it’s strange…but I thought I recognised you from somewhere…have we met before?”
The lady listens intently, her eyes enlarging as he progresses. A warm red flushes her cheeks as she listens till the end. She closes her book and takes out a piece of paper and a pen from her purse, proceeding to write something down quickly.
He feels confused. Why isn’t she saying anything?
She takes his hand in hers and places the paper into his palm. He looks at it and reads, eyes squinting in the afternoon sun:
“I remember you. We met many years ago.
I still remember what happened back then. We were still children.
Thank you for being my first friend in primary school. I slipped and fell but you stopped to ask if I was okay. That was the first time we met, but I still remember after all these years.
I can’t speak, I can only read and use sign language, so there are not many whom I can befriend.
I was very lonely in primary school, but because of your kindness back then, I persevered, and am now in graduate school studying for my PhD.
Thank you for coming all the way to meet me again.
I hope we can still be friends.
91835667″
…
He is speechless. Taking the paper in his hands, the very words he wanted to say are now lost; they’ve dissipated into thin air. His mind draws a blank…
Then it dawns upon him.
Yes! She was the young girl he met in their old school back then. The girl with bobbed hair…
Suddenly, she gets up.
“I have to go now, goodbye” her fingers gesture in signs. Turning, she gives him a slight smile with dazzling blue eyes, and leaves for the bus 179 that just arrived. In a flurry of steps she boards it, dress fluttering in the dappling sunlight as satins do in a light, gentle breeze. The engines rev and roar, and the bus drives off.
With that, she is gone, the only evidence of her presence a trail of fading smoke and dust.
He looks at the dust, and turns to find the bus with his searching eyes. It shrinks into nothingness behind a bend in the road far off ahead.
Again, he looks back down at the piece of paper, mind adrift and listless.
A warmth spreads up his neck, filling the back of his eyes and the shape of his cheeks.
What a coincidence!
But what a disappointment too –
He buries his head in his hands.
He thought she was his ex!
~fin~
I don’t know why I wrote this – just wanted to experiment for a bit.
The Writing Den 