Tears in Her Eyes

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 2005

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached.

Abstract: A girl watches a bus leave and loses herself in memories

HAHHHNK!! The Number 27 bus pulled up to the commuter stop, diesel fumes
accompanying the noise of its brakes. The woman on the bench winced and put a
hand to her face, fingers returning wet. The man sitting next to her noticed,
and offered her a tissue. "The fumes get to me as well," he sympathized.

He was right, but he was wrong.

It was a small town bus station, the kind that used to hold the nation
together. She and Billy had just come out of the maintenance closet, sweaty and
unkempt, when the noon bus rolled in, air shimmering ahead of its shiny front
grille. Brakes squealed, and exhaust filled the building. That's when Billy
popped his surprise.

"I'm goin' to the city!" he told her excitedly. "Got me a good offer, more'n
anything I'd get around here." Her face reacted, and he held her close, chiding
her. "Now don't you go lookin' like that, hon. Coupla years and I'll be set,
you'll see. We're gonna go places!" He kissed her then, and his hand squeezed
her bottom, but gently, and all the more painful for that.

Bereft of responses, the girl pressed herself against the window, watched Billy
get on the bus, waited until its only remnant was an oil spot on the concrete.

"City Council said they'd get those new low-emission buses, but it's just
politicians as usual. Say, you need help with those groceries?"

The woman stood, sunlight picking out the highlights in her grey hair, and
declined. "No thanks, I was just resting on the bench." She paused, and added
as if apologizing, "The bus doesn't go my way any more."

The commuters boarded the bus, and it roared and puffed on its way, leaving her
memories in its wake.

/END/

Endnote: Composed for the 2005 Fragrant Flash Story Competition at FishTank;
see the winning entries at http://www.Desdmona.com/ContestWinners.asp