Chapter 4 — The Second Meeting
520 Words
For a moment neither of us moved.
The wind drifted down the street, carrying the faint smell of rain that hadn’t started yet. Cars passed now and then, headlights sliding across the wet pavement.
But my attention stayed on him.
The quiet stranger from the night before.
Standing there like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You think I followed you?” I said.
He gave a small shrug.
“You’re at the same bus stop.”
“So are you.”
“Exactly.”
I crossed my arms slightly, studying him.
Up close in daylight he looked a little different than he had in the rain. His hair was darker than I first thought, slightly messy like the wind had already gotten to it.
His expression still carried that same calm.
Not cold.
Not distant.
Just… steady.
“You’re not even waiting for the bus,” I said.
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“And it’s still true.”
“Yet here you are again.”
He had a point.
I frowned slightly.
“So why are you here?”
For a moment he looked like he might not answer.
Then he glanced down the street.
“Maybe I like the view.”
I followed his gaze.
The street looked exactly the same as always.
A row of shops. A few parked cars. A tired bus stop sign leaning slightly to one side.
Not exactly a breathtaking view.
“You have strange taste,” I said.
A faint smile touched his face again.
“I’ve been told that before.”
The bus arrived sooner than expected this time.
It pulled up with a long sigh of air brakes.
The doors opened.
People stepped out.
Others climbed in.
I stayed where I was for a second longer.
Looking at him.
“So you’re not getting on?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why come to a bus stop?”
His answer came simply.
“Maybe I was hoping to see someone again.”
My heart did something strange when he said that.
Not dramatic.
Just a small shift.
The kind you almost ignore.
“Someone who gets splashed by cars?” I asked.
“Someone who stands too close to the curb.”
I rolled my eyes slightly.
“That was one time.”
“Once is enough.”
The bus driver glanced at me impatiently.
I stepped onto the bus.
But before the doors closed, I looked back.
He was still standing there.
Hands in his coat pockets.
Watching the street like he had all the time in the world.
For a second I hesitated.
Then I said the one thing I realized we had skipped both times we met.
“My name is—”
The doors closed before I could finish.
The bus pulled away.
And through the window I saw him standing under the fading evening light.
Still watching.
Still quiet.
Still a stranger whose name I didn’t know.
Yet somehow…
It felt like we had already started something neither of us fully understood.
- Writer
