The Bus Ride

I ran across the compound, trying to hold on to my handbag. The engine started. I waved at the bus driver desperately trying to catch his attention. He mercifully stopped, and with a heave and a pant, I climbed up the steps. Noticing an empty sit at the front row, I thankfully slumped into it while wiping beads of sweat from my brow with my hard clasped hanky. I said a quick prayer of gratitude, nearly making the sign of the cross, but my quiet devotion was interrupted by a shift by my side.

A pair of shiny black leather shoes caught my attention, as I came around to the realization of the scent of a strong male cologne invading my nostrils. I sheepishly turned my head to my left and caught the sight of a daper young man, silently comprehending the scenary outside the window. He had well trimmed hair and acutely defined eyebrows. His eyes were sharp and narrowly slit behind clear frameless glasses. His nose was long and narrow, tapering down to a finely sketched goaty. His skin looked smooth with the tone of latte, winding over a chiselled jaw line. I traced down a muscular arm contouring a dark tailored suit, to shinny cufflinks below strong manicured palms. I hastily darted my gaze back to focus straight ahead, attempting to contain the butterflies in my belly. Who was this man?

From what I could tell, he was a high ranking member of staff, and from his wrist watch, probably in the six figure pay range. What was he doing in the staff bus? Was he afraid he would wreck his car on the rough road to the field work station? Was it a Bentely?

I looked at his left hand once again to catch a glimmer of a wedding band. None. A smile crept onto my face. I foolishly could not hold myself from rising optimism.

Rubbing my hands together, I felt my self-confidence calculatingly returning to me and I straightened my shoulders. I flopped my braids back as we sped off into the highway. This was going to be an interesting ride.


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