Bus Girl

She’s really lovely.

Of course I’m too shy to say anything, but I’ve caught her looking at me a couple of times.

On the bus, you don’t talk to strangers, of course. It’s pretty much the one rule of childhood that has remained true, well into adulthood.

She has even sat next to me, the little minx. She not quite flirts with me.

But she’s lovely. Shorter hair than I usually go for, but on her it works. Blonde. HUGE blue eyes. Nice body, curvy the way I like. She’s got a stud in her eyebrow. I’m not one for that kind of thing usually, but on her angelic innocent face, it adds a little ... I dunno. Edge. Urbanity. Makes her less... virginal, somehow.

She wears blue a lot. It goes with her eyes.

Does she have anything in common with me? Does she like movies, or sports? Does she read? I’ve never seen her read on the bus.

Maybe she just gets carsick easily. That could be why she never reads on the bus. Or maybe she likes to read in a specific chair in her apartment.

Or maybe she lives at home with her parents. I mean, she looks about twenty-four, maybe twenty-six, but I’m a rotten judge of age. She could be as young as eighteen, or as old as thirty. I’m really that awful at judging ages.

I’ve never seen her smile, or heard her laugh. I don’t know what language she speaks. She rides the bus with me every day, but I don’t know a thing about her.

She just sits, and watches the world go by. Is she pensive, reflecting on the world and nature and philosophy and life, or is it vacancy, a bright emptiness of thought? Is she intelligent? She doesn’t seem vacuous, but then, how can I really know?

I could talk to her. Smile at her one morning and see if she smiles back.

But then... she could not smile back. She could be an idiot, or a racist, or any of a thousand unattractive options.

In my imagination, she likes to read. She curls up in a big comfy chair when it rains, a cat in her lap or a dog at her feet. She sips herbal tea and reads fantasy and sci fi. She can discuss geek topics. She gets together with friends online, and in person. She’s not one for clubs but she doesn’t mind an evening out on the town. She likes anime.

Of course, I’ll never know the truth. Maybe she is everything I’ve imagined. I’m pretty intuitive, I can read people. She seems the type, inasmuch as there is such a thing as that type.

But then, maybe she’s a club-a-holic. Maybe she doesn’t smile or read in the morning because she’s too tired from spending her paycheck in martini bars. Maybe she’s a big time sports gal. Jock-crazy. Only dates professional athletes.

What’s better? A harmless but fulfilling fantasy, or a disappointing truth?

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