He has a low voice with a sound that rolls syllable waves down the back of her legs when he says things like “Speak to you soon…” It leaves her with weak knees and new hope, makes her turn her head.
The mysterious pair is permitted two ten minute walks a day. To and back from the bus station. They arrive in the city every day from opposite directions. Each bus stops at the depot on the nose of 7am and departs at 4pm. Ten minutes away is a block of skyscrapers where they each disappear for some hours, awaiting the ten minute walk back.
He wears glasses that he takes on and off when he talks to her with no ability of looking up longer than three sentences. She likes them on. Mustering up the courage to tell him this, she tends to miss in the range of fifteen to twenty-four percent of what he says.
One time when she planned on making her declaration, she tripped over chattering teeth to reveal, “You have really long eyelashes.”
He tried to hide the width of his smile during his reply. His bottom teeth are crooked; it makes him feel self-conscious.
“Yeah, I know. They always brush against my lenses.”
She blushed and replied “Oh, really? Everyone must tell you that. I bet everyone says that to you.” She twirled one of her waist-length locks and felt sick over saying something ordinary. She didn’t want to tell him ordinary things.
He liked the way it sounded better when she told him. When she spoke, it sounded like wind chimes. It sounded like something he could listen to every day.
“I mean… no one’s told me that for a long time.”
She usually stops for a double espresso during their walk. Each time this happens, he falls back to let her step ahead. Her lead only lasts the eight steps it takes for her to make the left turn into the Greek café that “… has the best coffee.” He knows it’s eight steps because he counts. She moves like water running down an icicle on a warm winter day. It’s never quite the same and will stun you in the capture of a sunray.
They aren’t interested in the other’s bus route.
She’s fascinated by his glasses. The next time she stumbles over confessing her preference, she might ask to try them on.
She’d like to know what he sees.
“What do you think?” he queries shaking her back to the moment.
“I’m sorry… I missed what you said…”
Stuck on the last stop.