Earlier today, I chose a seat near the front of the bus and placed my bag beside me. Then I remembered that it was Thursday and there was no need to save a seat because Hannah doesn't start college until the afternoon. I left the bag there anyway. I always do.
The bus pulled away from Brayton and swayed through the various villages where it makes its stops. Preparing for the long journey, I took a book from my bag and began to read. A shadow passed over me and, without waiting for him to speak, I removed my belongings from the chair and he sat next to me.
I refer to him as 'he' because I don't know his name. He sits there every Thursday without fail. At first, I thought nothing of it; he wasn't the first to occupy the vacant seat. Not everyone minds sitting next to a girl who pays more attention to her book than you. The second time, I presumed that all the other seats were taken. I didn't waste the energy to turn around and look. The third time... well the bus was practically empty. Not only were there seats next to better looking, more sociable people but there were rows of empty seats. That's when I started to wonder.
Now many months have passed and his only words to me have been 'Can I sit here?'
I have made a few attempts to get to know him. I turn to face him sometimes and catch him looking at me. Then, in an embarrassed silence, the words upon my tongue will slip away and I will hastily look toward the window. From the corner of my eye, his impassive face shows no sign of unease. Sometimes the bus sways and he tumbles into me, his flesh brushing against my skin and I mumble an apology. He takes his time sitting back up and still his mask is in place. No words pass his lips, no flicker of emotion.
Other times I've steeled myself to talk to him. To ask him his name. I turn and find that his eyes stare forward. Is he ignoring me? Or does he not notice. Either way, the courage to speak evades me and I turn away once more.
Why does he sit there? I wish I knew.
It is really easy to read and interesting.
