Day 59 – Guy on a Bus

You can tell by the way his hair bends and curls in the back that it had been in a ponytail earlier today, but now it’s just a mess of curls roving.

His legs are stretched out, feet kicked out of sandals, heels resting on his shoes; barefoot but not shoeless. Everything in his body says ease; he’s relaxed stillness on this moving bus, blinking traffic. His jeans are worn, soft in all the important places; the denim tell a story about who he is, how he’s moved.

His hands make me think he might be Irish, the broad expanse of them; solid strength. And those dark penetrating eyes that make you forget yourself for a moment …I’ve seen those on an Irish lad or two.

He laughs to himself as he flips through the paper and I can’t help but smile too.

2 thoughts on “Day 59 – Guy on a Bus

    1. Ah, that’s the beauty of fiction my darling. Nobody knows what was the thread of truth, what was extrapolation from there, what actually happened.

      I have complete deniablity. ~wink~


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