observing

the air in the bus is warm. stale. stagnant. as though time itself were idling along with the engine. already the bus is half full. or half empty. depending on your mood. on your outlook.

it's been a nice day. one of many that have been strung along this week. like little beads of warmth. hanging delicately from a chain. bouncing sweetly against the collarbone.

this third day of sunshine and gentle breezes casts a spell. the continuous rain has been tossed aside. wellingtons and brollys have been stored away. flip-flops and teeny tiny skirts have been dusted off.

our little world has broken free of the chrysalis. wriggling out from under the grey clouds. spreading multicolored wings. letting our cold skin warm and color until it matches the gold in the sky.

and there i am. sitting in the corner. pressed against the cool glass. head tilted away from the bustle and noise. away from the clamor of youth. the clinging clothes of summer. the alcohol from happy hour.

i close my eyes to the sound of it.

i close my eyes and observe.