Chronicles of Curiosity

0.1

Sipping from a cardboard cup, I tap my heel while waiting on the decrepit bus stop bench. The hospitality of this station had left along with the blue paint slowly flaking off the seat after years of harsh weather. Glass scratched and metal warped, the shack was likely the furthest away from the rest of the city line, also meaning most forgotten for maintenance. It was faithful, however, in being remembered in daily bus routes to the near countryside in which I worked.

For the past three years, the view of this street called to close the struggles of the day laboring in the manor. As much as I adored the lovely charm of the home and the sun-kissed garden, the chores regarding and their owners adored being difficult. Each day would unfold another chapter in which I starred as Cinderella to their high class living. Any day now, I would be whisked away.

My attention drew back to reality, sensing subtle vibrations coming up the drive. The bus wheezed before fully coming to a stop. Its doors opened -beckoning me forth like a father's warm embrace- and I am greeted by a familiar kind, crooked smile.

" Well Ms. Eden, I mighty glad we stopped this way since we's blessed to see your sweet face," came an expected tease from the driver's thrown, "What will you tell of your adventures today?"

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Mr. Tobias Meijers was surely the most outwardly joyous aged man in town. He drove the same route each day, picked up many of the same commuters, welcomed each guest with a variation of the same line, and made each feel special for a few fleeting moments in his hospitality. He did not expect a single one to remember his name. He would not expect any person to pay any mind to the troubles of one man as the world outside his windows shifted from the town "where everyone knows your name." Except Eden Aernali.

See Eden sought to know people, even if they wouldn't entertain her in conversation. She observed them. Their style revealing personality, hands revealing feeling, and posture reflecting daily troubles. With Mr. Meijers, Eden taught herself to read behind his smile
- to his eyes and the wrinkles enveloping them. She could always discern if something was troubling him; but instead of asking the nature of his worries, Eden would tell tales to keep him smiling. If she couldn't spin her day to sound spectacular or beautifully tragic, she would turn an eye to those seated behind her prime front seat and regale their "stories" as if they were bosom friends.

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"Oh Mr. Meijers, today was so fascinating," I whisper dreamily as I set down my sac and kneel on the front seat, with my elbows crossed supporting my leaning head on the wall behind the driver's cabin. "Mr. and Mrs. wanted to get an early start on spring cleaning, wanting me to focus on the library and the study. I was to discard any treatise with broken spines and any loose bauble in a drawer. But while traipsing from case to case, I found that none of the novels had been opened! I fought myself against opening just one. I had to strengthen my resolve by settling for reading the titles. Among the cases I found some trinkets that just spoke to me.. Hold on let me find it."

I reached into my sac, a canvas messenger bag worn with time and covered with patches of both sorts: of fixing and of decor. My hand grazed against cool, rough metal, and my thumb followed down it to reach a smooth gem. Pulling it out, I started up again, "See Mr. Mei- "

We are thrown into deceleration. The bus doesn't even have a chance to catch its breath. Outside the sliding door, a figure raps its hand against the glass. Heads peer over seats in wonder as to why we've stopped their schedule. There is only enough light from outside to see clearly a firm jawline with shadowy stubble. Meijers cautiously pulls the switch for the door.

"Sir, I'd be happy to give ye'a ride, but we's only pick up from stations so-"

The man doesn't give the driver a chance to finish, his broad body swiftly up the steps already and handing Meijers some bills. My eyes start sweeping across his appearance. Unaware that my habit was causing me to stare, someone clearing his throat pulls my attention away from his long coat and up to blank amber eyes standing in front of me. Why is he waiting in front of me?

He simply nods his head, gesturing to my seat. I hop up from my kneeling position and exit to the aisle. Moving my bag to the outside as well, he sits down and looks ahead. I glance over at Meijers , seemingly thanking me for moving. I respond with a look of my own - apologetic and then determined.

Much to the guest's surprise, I plop down next to him, sitting cross-legged to increase my height slightly. I smile to myself and look at my hands in my lap. Deciding this will be an interesting ride home.