Nude; I look too casual, and red; I look too colorful. I decide it’s not my lipstick day today and with the back of my palms, swipe it all off. I scoop a generous portion of my curl definer styling custard into my hair and comb it in with my fingers. It smells nice and gives my hair some curls but I know at a point during the day, my hair will turn white on me. With this curl definer, it always does, no reason.
With my hair done proper, makeup on fleek except for my lips, I walk out the door. I get to the bus stop and wait for a bus going my way. A few minutes later, I see him. He is sitting right in the front seat of a bus. His skin is the color of sunset and his eyes, a brilliant grey.
Our eyes meet and everything stops, the buses, the people, the world, they all stop for us. It feels like my heart has stopped too. He is handsome beyond words and he has the kind of eyes that can only belong to someone kind. I just stand looking at him and he at me.
Somehow, I draw very close to him. I reach out and touch his face and it feels like it belongs to a soft little child. Slowly, our foreheads meet and we gaze into each other’s eyes, not moving.
I will him to kiss me but he just keeps looking into my eyes. I lean in and kiss him, gently at first. He returns it and then it becomes overpowering. I close my eyes and let it sink in, the passion and emotions, all of it. His mouth traps my tongue and it’s the kind of prison I’ll like to remain in forever.
Just then, it all stops- the wetness, the passion, the quiet, the world is moving again. I open my eyes. I’m standing here and he’s sitting there, in the front seat of a bus. The conductor returns from his search for more passengers and signals to the driver to move. They are getting away.
I think of joining the bus to wherever they are going but he is not sitting alone. There is a young man sitting there with him, lost in his phone. I watch their car move slowly, then fast. Other buses keep moving after them and then they disappear. It feels like helplessly watching a thief take something of yours. It makes me nauseous.
‘I could have joined the bus anyway and made his destination mine too. I could have walked up to him and said ‘Hi’, I could have smiled at least…’ I think of all I could have done and I am filled with regrets.
I make up my mind that I’ll always look out for him and when I see him again, I’ll claim what’s mine – the perfection whose eyes are a brilliant grey and skin the colour of sunset.
