The twelfth of a series of small pieces. As always, written when I ought to be doing something else.


He smiles and waves as she gets on the bus again. They've promised to meet up again soon. Next week sometime maybe they'd both said. Maybe. Maybe, meaning as it as always did, a more polite yes or no. People never said maybe unless they already knew the answer.

It was no, he realized, spotting a red skirt fluttering in the wind on an equally pretty girl. and it always would be, until something finally made him want to watch that bus until it disappeared from sight.