The saddest girl to wear a yellow dress

"The saddest girl to wear a yellow dress" (1)

She was one of the saddest girls he had laid eyes on his life and it wasn't as though he didn't have his share of distressed, frightened faces filed away in the arsenal of his mind - faces that pleaded... faces that were drowning in their own desperation. Yet this girl's face was even cloudier. Her almond-shaped brown eyes held a type of desolation that shook him to the bone. 

She sat at the bus stop bench - a see-through, plastic umbrella over her plentiful, medium blonde hair. The soft rain fell all around her, soaking the tip of her white rain boots.

He was supposed to be heading back home after a long day at The Avenger's Tower. This was only supposed to be a quick stop for some food on the way home, yet he simply couldn't disregard this yellow-dressed, sad girl that sat across the street from him.

He cursed under his breath as he hopped off of his motorcycle - a deep inhale later and he was crossing the road toward where she was. The hood of his leather jacket the perfect cover for the rain, as he tossed it over his damp head. 

The girl remained still. She didn't so much as notice him - her eyes fixed on something that wasn't there, some vision that inhabited her mind...perhaps a memory she couldn't shake away. 

"Excuse me...er...would you like to wait inside the Cafe across the street with me," Bucky points to the building from which he just exited.  Fidgety, he still questions the reasons that led him to the mistake of glancing over at her.

"No thanks." Her answer is low and polite, her eyes still cast on her own form of oblivion. Black smudges on her eyelids - a telltale sign of rubbing.

"Are you sure? We can see the bus's arrival from inside. There's a booth right next to the glass wall that faces the street," Bucky insists, the raindrops splashing against the leather of his jacket.

"I'm not waiting for the bus," she reveals and that's when Bucky sees the suitcase tucked barely out of sight, behind her. 

"I know I'm a total stranger, but I was wondering if...you'd like a ride?" he offers as he nods his chin toward the motorcycle parked across the street and buries his metal hand inside his jeans pocket before she could catch a glimpse of it. 

"I don't have anywhere I need to go at the moment," the girl retorts, her voice reminds him of that of the undead. It's strained as if hanging by a thread. He grows more and more intrigued every minute he stands there - a couple of feet away from her. 

Thorough eyes glide over her dress  - bright yellow against the grey - eyes that involuntarily linger on the smooth shape of her breasts. He forces his head away, honest shame stinging his cheeks.

"Are you sure I can't get you something to eat?" Bucky suggests, swaying tensely on his heel. "It's going to be night time soon."

"I'll be gone by then. Don't worry, mmm ...?" She darts a quick glance up to him, dark circles encasing her eyes. Lips are full, but dry.  Frail hands hold firmly the umbrella as if she would just fly away if she were to let go of it; like it was anchoring her to something he was struggling to figure out. 

"What's your name?" she asks and he hesitates - too enthralled by the lost appearance of her face, his thoughts jumbled by her presence for his brain to catch up.

"Bucky."

"Bucky, she repeats, emphasizing the Y and he instantly likes the way his name sounds on her lips. "I appreciate the kind offer, but things will be alright," she explains, with the same enthusiasm a CPA goes over someone's taxes. A little quiver in her lower lip and he didn't believe a single word.

"I will bring the food to you, then," he insists, fearing she will be gone by the time he comes back and he'll have to forever wonder where she went. 

"You are sweet, Bucky," the girl utters, and it was the very first sentence that doesn't sound like an autopilot-type-response. 

"I'm going to trust you to stay here, I won't be but like a minute," he uses his friendliest, most harmless tone of voice,  hoping it would be as sort of tether to keep her there and heads toward the rainy street again. 

The girl is still there when he turns his head around before entering the Cafe. A ham and cheese sandwich is ordered in a rush -  chips and bottled water. Not enough time to wait for the change and he rushes to the door. The bench is empty as the door is flung open by his metal palm...

...and it's raining substantially now and the sad girl has vanished from his sight.