Delicious

Thick rimmed glasses, cute smile, thick legs, waiting at a bus stop. I watch as best I can; hoping I will not be seen staring. We wait, the only ones at the bus stop and the bus arrives all to soon. Not that I would ever have had the courage to introduce myself. I follow onto the bus, its crowded, we're separated, and I miss where they get off.

That afternoon I'm back home. I cannot get the image out of my mind: the think glasses, the stocky legs. Irrationally I return to the bus stop; hoping they're there. I fantasise about them being there, about the possibility of destiny. “I'll believe in God if they're there,” I repeat to myself, not believing it. “I'll believe in God if they're there.”

There not, of course they're not. I can see this from a distance, and still I walk passed the stop just to make sure.

The memory lingers. Then fades. There is no destiny.