the bus stop

“I love you.” He grabbed her hand, squeezed reassuringly, and she didn’t want him to say anything. Because she wasn’t ready to let him go. Not yet. “It’ll pass.” She smiled at him so hard that her cheeks hurt. Smile. Smile. She thought that her life is a set of recurring events. Maybe people are just not made for her. Maybe she’s just not made for people. They were almost touching foreheads, and it seemed like the most intimate moment they’ve ever shared. More intimate than when she showed up at his doorstep in the middle of the night. More intimate than her shrift, which she will never repeat again. More intimate than what happened afterwards. There was always God for him, and she’ll never be able to replace him. Because he wouldn’t want it. Maybe loyalty isn’t as good as they say. She wanted to touch his lips at least one more time. But she knew that the kisses on the wedding weren’t a beginning of something new. They were mourning for what will never be. And when she led her father to the altar, it was the first and the last time, when he was waiting for her on the other end. “I love you too.” That was everything she’s ever wanted to hear. That was everything she’s been so afraid of. Because after that, he turned away and left. Her bus was cancelled. The cold night air made her shiver.