... but I stopped. Now I'm a dad, and may blog again...

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

319: Hi, it's Kyle

His finger prodded her shoulder and she looked up. Her face registered nothing; the bus moved forward slightly to fill a gap in the traffic that made no difference. Music was forced through the holes in her ear phones like aluminium through a sieve. Looking up beyond the prodding finger she pulled at the wires and her ear phones popped out.

Yes, what- she didn't say, and he replied -Are you Sarah? Her head bobbed slightly and her eyebrows dived to meet the bridge of her nose, leaving a wake of crinkled forehead. It's for you- and he pushed his mobile phone towards her. She looked around the bus and took the phone. Hello? ... Yes? … Who is this? … Oh, hi Kyle … how did you? … Oh, OK … right … Where did you see me? … Yes … Yes … Yes, we should … Yes, by- … Yes, bye … OK, right, bye … She hung up.

The phone sat in her hand as she sat in her seat; the phone and her gazed at one another, until the screen back-light turned off and ended her thought chain. He had returned to his seat towards the back of the bus and she stood up and walked towards him. Thanks- she handed the phone back. That was weird... how do you know Kyle? -Oh just from ages ago; through a friend. -I think he drove passed the bus near Stretford...

Both people breathed in and out so as to stave of death; not consciously but their bodies worked away regardless. So, ahh- He sighed. It feels like I've been on this bus for ever. She sighed. What number have you got for Kyle, I think I have his old one. -Yeah he has a new phone; here... As I listened for further developments I thought back to try to recall a few minutes earlier; had I heard his phone conversation with Kyle? I had no memory of doing so. All I remembered from the bus journey was a few new street names, two buildings no longer serving as pubs, and the backs of heads.

The two unnamed people gave no effort to continuing a conversation, yet they sat turned towards each other tapping fingers and turning heads away. No introductions were made and Kyle was not spoken of again. As the bus pulled into Piccadilly Gardens she moved to the front of the bus despite the time it takes to manoeuvre around the station and into the allocated stop. Eventually the driver released the doors and granted us freedom to roam forth. All took it the opportunity. She plugged her ears with music and pushed forward with a nod goodbye.

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