Excerpts From The Book I'll Never Write

#54

I couldn't see his face, the darkness of the bus preventing me from seeing his blue eyes. But I knew he was there. I felt his shoulder shake against mine when one of his teammates said something particularly funny, and that was enough. I looked out the window at the darkened streets of the current city we were leaving, it felt like I hadn't even been there at all. My gaze was fixed on the quiet streets when I felt his  head lean on my shoulder and the strong smell of his shampoo invade my lungs. He didn't say anything and neither did I. We just sat there, his friends telling jokes and his head leaning on my shoulder, watching as the city we were never really in passed by.

For some reason, this is the moment I come back to when people ask me what went wrong.