Bus Stops and Curly Hair

It was the first Friday of May.

After a busy workday, I looked forward to leftovers and an evening of TV to wind down. The bus wasn't full that day, so luckily I didn't have to share my row with social anxiety. I hugged my backpack closer to my chest as I watched the buildings and cars slip by.

The bus pulled to a stop. A few people got on, and a couple got off. I dug in my backpack for my headphones. As I plugged into my playlist, someone sat across the aisle from me. We exchanged brief smiles before I was absorbed in my music. 

My days were full of this. Get on the bus, go to work, get back on the bus, go home. I was focused on just making it to tomorrow, on saving up so I could make something of my life.

A few minutes later we came to my stop, and I got off with heavy feet and achy muscles.

* * * * *

It was the third Friday of May.

I clutched my coffee, thankful that no one dared ask to take my backpack's seat, even with as many people on board as there were. I was struggling to wake up that day, but I had to get to work.

The bus pulled in to a stop. A sizeable group boarded, only a few got off. The new passengers filtered into empty seats. A man with a broad frame, curly hair and dark clothes sat next to a passenger across the aisle from me. The two exchanged quick formalities as the bus merged into traffic, then the new passenger slumped further into his seat. 

Sleepy as I was, I caught myself tracing over the curly-haired man's face with my eyes. He had a soft glow to his cheeks, eyes that were round and slightly sunken, and a shadow of stubble. His features made me fascinated and intrigued by him, and I wished I had the courage to go up to him. 

When he glanced over at me, I looked away and took a long swig of coffee. Had he noticed that I'd been staring? I begged the universe that he hadn't. A couple minutes later, I disembarked with my things and went to work. But his face stayed with me in memory. 

* * * * *

It was the fourth Friday of May.

It was the afternoon and I was on the bus home before I had my second shift of the day. I was undoing my bun to relieve my scalp when I saw the curly-haired man from the previous week board. The bus was pretty full at the time; he sat a few rows ahead of me, in the aisle seat. I hadn't noticed him on the bus since the previous week.

My mind could still picture his face, his expression, even though he was facing away from me. I stared at the phone in my lap, impatient for my stop to come. I didn't know why I was so flustered. 

* * * * *

It was the fourth Tuesday of May.

Another early morning shift was waiting for me; I had my coffee, my bag, and a wandering mind. I wrapped myself in fantasies of living in a quiet town where the bus is never full and I could work whenever I pleased. My thoughts were interrupted by someone sitting down next to me. I was about to move to the window seat to give them more space when I realized it was the curly-haired man, so I was frozen in place. 

I dropped my chin a little and smiled to myself. I glanced up to check if he was bothered by me, only to connect with his warm hazel eyes. I quickly returned my gaze back out the window. I reprimanded myself for not just saying hello, but I felt too embarrassed to now. Unfortunately, as I finally was gathering the courage to speak, the bus rolled to a stop and I was forced to get off. I muttered an apology as I scooted past him, and felt my cheeks flush as I hurried down the aisle.