bus rides with them | waiting
The boy sat at the small cushioned booth, his fingers twiddling nervously.
What if she didn't read it?
What if she did read it and thought it was stupid?
The boy felt his heart sink and he watched the door. He watched it intensely, hoping for it to swing open and reveal her and all her quirkiness.
But because he didn't control the entire universe, he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
It was an agonizing twenty minutes that felt like hours for the boy. But she showed up, with her curls messed up around her face and her cheeks flushed from the howling wind outside. She hugged herself through her jacket and shivered inwardly.
Her green eyes met his and her pink face lit up in delight and happiness. She walked up to the booth and slid into the opposite seat, facing him.
"Hey,"
"Hey,"
YOU ARE READING
Bus Rides With Them
Short StoryHe just sits there. On seat 31. Reading a book or listening to his music. He looks out of the window. Or looks at her. She just sits there. On seat 30. Reading a book or listening to her music. She looks out of the window. Or looks at him.
