The Bust Stop

At 8:45 I turn the lights off. Not to sleep, but to watch an exhaling shadow first then a woman materialize. She is always early for her 8:55 bus as I am to look down from my window. Perhaps she is scarred to be in the dark. The time has not quite been set for spring though the March days have lengthened. The street lights are flickering on now, a spotlight to procure her glamour. The honey shade of light gives me swinging leg, a cheek round and high, dark tresses neatly curled. Ten minutes is never long enough. Soft screeching brakes make her stand, throwing a quick sass of hip for her time wasted, and off she’s carried away from me until tomorrow.

Twenty minutes till and I stand in the mirror mowing down my stubble. No beard to speak of. Hairs are splotched on my oval earth. I don’t know how I didn’t miss a stair as hastily as I galloped to front door of my building. The humid atmosphere was a thousand camel licks on my skin. I look down at my watch. She’d just be taking her seat. I think of what to say. Maybe I’d be nonchalant and let her come to me. Or maybe use some slang I’d overheard from a bunch of kids in the supermarket. She sits hands in lap staring out. She is a nightingale perched cooing to me. She hears my footsteps and doesn’t flinch (no, not a bird, a tigress). I stand behind her just under the half moon ceiling of the bus stop. She turns to me giving me a once over. She leans back out of her crouch, deeming me safe, and the light thwarts the shadows over her lips. I coil inside. To kiss her would drown me.

“Hi.” My peppy tone is my certain undoing.
“Hi, how are you?” How wrong I am and glad of it.
“Hot.” She smiled. I sit down.
“I’m usually alone for the 8:55.”
“I know.” I unnerved her. The eyes narrow and they dart to each bush and dark corner.
“I mean I live right here and I see you out here by yourself all the time and I feel compelled to make sure you’re safe.”
“That’s very nice of you.” She exhales and smiles and this time it is full. I extend my hand.
“I’m Kyle.”
“Marissa.” Hands soft with a touch of chill.
“Enchanted.”

Twenty minutes till. Now five and still I wait. She’ll be here and I won’t move. She’s already mine her scent in my sheets. I’ve traveled the world with and without her. I’ve asked my boss for a raise or got on the internet to find a better job. I am always already there.
“I’d love to take you out some time or at least just drive you home once.” A laugh is the gift at my doorstep. This moment is finding money in the wash. Then it is gone from me. Mechanical cringe of old brakes and rows of lit windows. She stands and pauses before the doors swing open. She looks over her shoulder at me.
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”