~ The Bus Stop ~

Instructions

> The Bus Stop < (a work of fiction) Everything started on a snowy afternoon at a bus stop. The tips and ankles of my boots were caked in snow, I stomped my feet to try and get rid of the compacted snow. A forest grew on either side of the road. The bus stop, power lines and cement road were the only signs of civilization from where I stood. Snow covered everything in a blanket of white, and obscured the sharp angles of the leafless trees and roofs of houses. Tree limbs creaked in the afternoon light, groaned underneath the snow and grabbed my attention in the echoing quiet. Standing I enjoyed the strange beauty of it all; after heavy snow, nobody dared venture outside leaving almost everything dead quiet. I tucked my hands into my coat pockets, gripping the soft inside cloth– heated by my body –and attempting to warm my bare hands. The afternoon sunlight turned patches of the pearly white snow glowing golden, glittering, and even blinding to the eye at times. A crow flew from a tree, hastily flapping its wings against the cold winter air. Sending puffs of snow falling, it opened its ebony beak, a singular shrill “k-Aa-W!” echoing down the mute street. Although everything was white and bleak, the crow, as dark as its feathers were compared to its surroundings, was merely a shadow dancing across the sky. Another sound caught my attention. Footsteps. Snow crunching under high, tall black lace up boots rimmed with fur, another figure walked up the sidewalk towards the bus stop. Distinctly feminine, a girl who looked about my age came to a halt next to me. She had nape-length, wavy dark brown hair and wore an off-white beanie that was neither beige nor cream-colored. As if this girl could sense my curious gaze, she turned her head to the side. “It’s rude to stare,” she said, placidly. I felt a blush warm my cheeks. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to-” “Ah, I was joking, joking!” She laughed; it lit up her whole face. I could almost feel the blush growing redder on my face and buried it in my knitted scarf. Though I couldn’t tell if it was from becoming embarrassed by misreading her sarcasm as genuine, or if it was something else… “Sorry,” I said, but what for? “Hey! No need to apologize, I should be the one apologizing, for seeming so rude at first.” She laughed again; her voice was slightly nervous. I dropped my gaze to my feet looking for something to say, but I couldn’t. We both watched the icy-snow covered street, and after a couple of moments of silence, she cleared her throat and looked over at me. “I’m Lane, by the way,” she said. “Alice.” I replied. “That’s a pretty name,” she commented. “Overused is more like,” I said dryly. She laughed, Lane laughed even though it wasn’t that funny, making my heart flutter. We continued to talk, and talk, And talk. Standing there in the snow, and cold, it felt like a dream, it was too perfect. Talking to Lane was like realizing that you could dip french fries in ranch, or like salt and pepper. We talked until her bus came, and she quickly asked me for my number, And later that night we texted. And we met up, I took her to my favorite coffee shop, she took me to her favorite sandwich place. We made each other laugh, we were friends, and that was amazing, we were just two strangers who met at a bus stop. Just two…strangers… I would have never imagined that she’d slip through my fingers. And never see her again.