Short Stories

Routine

Inspired by 24 Floors by The Maine

September 20

He'd been seeing her on the bus every day now. Ever since the new year had started, the same girl had been sitting in his bus, every morning. She got in four stops after his, but didn't get out at his stop. She looked nice. She always smiled at the busdriver as he came in, and at other people when they made eye contact. She'd smiled at him, too. It was almost more than he could handle.

October 14

She hadn't missed a day yet! He had. Everyone had been down with the flu lately, so his mother had let him stay home a few days. The week after that, he'd seen her in the bus, obviously ill. She was pale, but with bright red cheeks, constantly blowing her nose. Yet she still took the bus every morning that week. He respected that. She had a routine, and she didn't break it. He liked routine. He pretended that her becoming part of his routine was the only reason he looked at her so often.

December 2

He couldn't pretend it was routine anymore. Not when she smiled at him every morning before taking her seat halfway in the bus. It was the highlight of his day, and she never failed to deliver. He'd been observing her for so long now, it felt like he knew her. He knew where she lived, for example. The bus had been a few minutes early one day, and as they stood at her stop, she came running out of the house besides it, waving at the busdriver. She didn't need to; the busdriver recognized her as much as he did. "Don't worry about it kid, I'd wait for you", and she had thanked him, smiling, and taking her usual seat.

December 18

His younger brother told him he was obsessed. He had told him about the mystery girl, about whom he knew so much but not her name, on a late Friday night as they were gaming. He really wasn't obsessed. It wasn't his fault that he'd learned so much about her just by sitting in a bus.

He'd learned:

- She liked alternative music

- She never wore anything but jeans and shirts

- Her favourite tv-show was Brooklyn Nine Nine

- She hated math

- She occasionally matched the jeans with heels and a blouse, he figured it was her fancy look

- She wore lots of merch

- Her backpack was filled with awesome buttons from bands, books and movies

- She never showed up without her earphones

- She read the same book over and over again but he could never read the title

- Her hair never had the same look for long

- She always wore vans unless she was wearing heels, but that rarely happened

- She sometimes had blue eyelashes and he didn't know how she did it but it looked amazing

- Her best friend was called Allie (He assumed it was her best friend; they called in the bus sometimes and he'd seen the name on her phone numerous times as he walked out)

- Her bag was too small to carry all her stuff, she couldn't shut the zipper, but she never brought another bag

- She did always try to shut the zipper, but eventually gave up

- Her favourite colours were black and blue

- She was almost always alone at home because her parents were away often

- She hoped to go to uni after graduating

He'd only found that last part out the previous day, as he listened to her phone call. He wasn't really meaning to, it had just happened (yeah right). He promised himself to talk to her before graduation.

January 9

She wore a lot more black than she wore colours, lately. Her makeup had been darker too. He didn't mind; he thought it looked good on her. His little brother told him he thought everything looked good on her. But he couldn't judge on that, could he? After all, he'd only seen her in that many outfits. Far too early to make an opinion on those things.

February 14

A lot of happy people sat in the bus, often carrying roses. She stood out; she didn't seem happy at all. He felt bad for her. He didn't know if she had a boyfriend, but maybe she just felt bad for not having a Valentine? He wanted to be her Valentine, but he couldn't open his mouth to talk to her. It was just physically impossible. He tried, he really did. But the one time he only managed, he started coughing, and then almost choked on air, and she hadn't even noticed how he was almost dying a few seats behind her. It was a hopeless case.

February 27

It was a great day. It was sunny, and it never was sunny in England. He was wearing a shirt, having felt brave enough to leave his coat at home. He knew he'd regret that in the afternoon; it would rain. It always did. But now, he felt brave and cool. Maybe she'd do more than smile today. Or maybe, he would return that smile properly.

He didn't, obviously. He didn't even dare look at her. He did notice though, that she was wearing a hoodie. Maybe she was just cold.

March 8

They had been getting a lot of good days recently. It felt weird, wrong. Like something bad was about to happen and this was destiny's way of making up for it beforehand. Not that he minded. He loved the weather, loved his days even more, hoping every day that she'd leave her hoodie at home since the sun was shining. But she never did. Instead, even if the weather got happier, she seemed to get sadder. He didn't understand. Didn't everyone get happy when there was sunshine?

March 20

She'd been crying. He'd been shocked. She had stared at the floor of the bus as she took her seat, and as he left, he could see tear stains on her cheeks. He felt so bad for her, but he didn't understand. She always seemed so happy, she was too cute to be bullied, she had a friend, she didn't have annoying parents, she had the house to herself. He'd seen it, the other day, as the bus had to wait for a truck. The garden was messy, not kept as neat and tidy as his own. It looked empty, and he would love having such a big house to himself. He had only seen the car he assumed belonged to her parents three times this month. He envied her so much.

March 30

She didn't smile at him anymore. She didn't smile at anyone, but it particularly hurt that she didn't smile at him anymore. He wondered if he did anything wrong, and figured that now wouldn't be the best moment to finally talk to her.

April 5

She wasn't at the bus stop.

The busdriver waited for several minutes, and he could tell the other people in the bus were getting antsy at the driver for standing still so long. Eventually he shrugged, and drove on. He worried the entire day. She'd never missed a day.

April 7

She still wasn't there. She didn't hop into the bus, her usual seat was empty, she didn't smile at him. He felt empty.

May 15

She'd never returned to the bus, and he knew that she probably never would. He'd never gotten her name, and he'd never been able to talk to her. He regretted that. A lot.

But he made himself another promise, and this one, he would keep. He would think of her, every day, even if just for a few minutes, as he sat in the bus. He wouldn't forget her, wherever she was. It became his new routine.