Enigma Stigma (ONC 2023 Entry)

1.

'Please wait for me. Please.'

Constance's thoughts were frantic as her feet propelled her along the sidewalk as fast as humanly possible. She felt her messenger bag slap her side as she picked up her pace, playing a deadly game of Skip It with the untied laces of her sneakers. She couldn't miss the bus. She had been riding that bus since she had moved a month or so ago - but if she missed the bus today - she would be late for what could be the start of the rest of her life.

Keeping her gaze focused straight ahead, she noticed that the bus stop was within sight; the heel of the last person disappearing inside the bus parked there.

"WAIT!" she shouted out, watching the accordion like door of the bus start to shut.

The bus driver – who appeared perched above the world – noticed the slightly manic and desperate woman coming his way; his weathered face showing that this wasn't an uncommon sight. Constance could see him heft a sigh as he shoved the handle to open the door back up.

'Thank goodness,' Constance breathed out internally as she jumped up the bus steps with a smile on her face for the passive driver before her.

"Thank you," she said as she deposited her change. "I really appreciate it."

The bus driver just nodded in response before warning her to take her seat. She nodded as she turned her face to look down the cramped aisle that laid before her. All of the forest green pleather seats were already taken up by humans turned sardines with sour expressions on their faces. Undeterred, she began to walk down the aisle, stumbling forward a bit as the bus lurched into motion. Constance managed to reach out a hand and catch herself on the side of one of the seats. Her favorite pen wasn't so lucky though. In the lurch it had flown from the safety of her messenger bag onto the floor.

Sighing, she kept one hand on the seat that had kept her upright whilst bending forward to see if she could figure out where it went. Her eyes scanned the dirty ground with its well swept patches of dirt until they came to rest on the black combat boots of a fellow passenger. Her eyes traveled up the swamp green pants to his black t-shirt clad chest; a matching black leather jacket over the top of it. His dark brown hair hung in a fringe in front of his face; his eyes turned forward and not looking at her at all. To her, he was utterly drop dead gorgeous. He was an enigma though; a mysteriously handsome stranger that she had been seeing for the last few weeks on her commute to town but hadn't ever yet dared to talk to.

Constance knew that he must realize she was staring, but he didn't seem to care. His perfectly sculptured face and almond eyes were still facing straight ahead. She tried to settle down the beating of her heart to scan the floor of the bus for her favorite pen again when she found it tucked against the far wall by none other than mister dark and brooding's foot.

"Um...excuse me," Constance started as she cleared her throat, wishing she had had time for one last comb through of her hair before rushing from her apartment that morning.

He ignored her; his eyes still facing forward. Constance figured that he must be thinking she was beneath him. That was what a lot of men in her life thought, but she wanted her lucky pen back. It was lucky for a reason.

"Sir," Constance said a bit louder, moving closer to his seat. "Can I please have my pen back?"

This time his head turned slowly until he was facing her. He didn't say anything for a moment as their equally chocolate brown eyes locked. The longer their gaze remained fixed on the other, the more she began to see his face darken. It made all his angelic features more dynamic and intense. His response was even more dark and intense than his facial features were; her brain trying to make sense of it all as he said to her, "You shouldn't be able to see me."