Pudding Girl
The boy got on the tram. He carried his sporty rucksack with him, which barely contained more than a piece of ragged paper and a pen, since he thought he would hardly need more than this at school. He spent most of his time at home anyway, where he had everything within reach- including a special drawing pen and his father downstairs who was always delighted to have a closer look on his son’s school works- not that he would have ever been allowed to help him, oh no, he knew better than this. Still, his fatherly heart was always filled with joy when thinking of his son working with him in a few years’ time and then overtaking the family business when he would retire. As for the boy, he did not very much like to think of things so serious and grown- up – although he would be 21 this august- , instead he preferred thinking of spending a good amount of time in America travelling and enjoying life in such a metropolitan way that European cities could never compete.
Right now, as usual, he imagined seeing the island of Manhattan instead of these ragged 19th century houses across the river. He wanted to sit down, since these stone- old, European tramways are like roller coasters. He looked around to see if there was anyone who needed that seat more than himself- a pretty blondie, perhaps, but he saw no girls- unfortunately, thought he, even pretty ones could not be dressed up like the girls in Florida in this chilly weather, having to wear these big coats.
So he sat down and looked around absentmindedly once more. There weren't too many people- just a few grannies with their shopping bags; an old man in a funny hat that seemed to be bigger than his small, wrinkled head; an ill- looking teenager boy who seemed to be sent home from school, because, thought the boy, he seems to be throwing up in any minute, and a… well, a funny-looking girl. Or she must be a girl, because that awful coat is purple, anyway, and her hair is long, too, though barely visible along with her face underneath that funny red cap- he thought. But her body seemed to be much too thick on one side underneath the coat, while she held both herself and her heavy- looking bag with her left hand. The coat hung down loose where her right hand should have been. He felt a sudden wave of shame arising in his chest: He wanted to run to the girl and help her, leading her damaged body to his seat, and help her carry her bag, which seemed to weigh 5 kilos at least. But before he could have provided any help, the tram stopped, and a few old ladies strolled down. Their places would be taken by a young mother with three little children; she herself could not sit down, though it was clear by a look at her round belly that the little ones would soon receive a new brother or sister.
The boy looked at the children, bemused; he wondered when he himself would become an uncle- after all, his brother was already past 30. It did not even occur to him to have little ones of his own- only women did think of such nonsense. He wondered, if Pudding Girl was fond of children- for that’s how he called her, deciding after a while, that, hopefully, she only broke her arm and now hid it under this- other wise too large- coat. And she did, after all, look like a big, purple pudding, with a fine cherry on the top- he thought, smiling to himself. He looked at her, as if to apologise for making fun of her, without her knowing it- but he was only too shocked to see that she was looking him straight in the eyes, as if only to say; "I know what you were thinking full well”. For a moment, he sat there, frozen. The color of the eyes were so light and they were so deep- the depths of all the waters’ on Earth- the exact opposites of his shining chocolate- brown ones, which- as he knew very well- were reflecting the light of the sun in a million shades of golden brown. The color of the girl's eyes would have been judged as cold, having all the fine green and grey and blue in themselves, have they not been surrounded by the soft expression of the face and the dazzlingly long, dark lashes. For a split of a second, he was caught up in those big, much too bright eyes. "Much too bright, according to the ragged clothes she’s wearing"- he thought. As if guessing what he was thinking, the girl raised slightly one eyebrow and turned to walk a few seats away from the boy. There she asked something politely from an elderly man, who silently nodded, then stood up, and provided his seat to the pregnant woman, who kindly accepted it.
The boy wanted to make it up to her, to run to her, but it was too late; The girl got off the tram and disappeared into the crowd.
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