Bits, Bobs, & Blurbs

Stream of Consciousness

For a split second, I saw my reflection. The windows of what I suppose was another bank warped the sunlight, contorting the world around me into a reversed and misshapen mess. I don't believe it was too far from the truth, but one thing was bothering me as I stared.

I couldn't see myself. I saw my reflection for a split second before the sun's glare erased my face. No matter how I titled my head, the sun's glare seemed to follow. Even the reflections avoid looking at me. My empty zone was broken with the hissing of a lumbering bus stopping before my feet.

"Ready?" asked the person to my left as she squeezed my hand. I turned my attention back to her and her big blue eyes. She was looking at me, and expecting a response. I nodded, squeezing her hand back.

We got onto the bus behind an elderly woman. I knew her, but I didn't say anything. It'd been years since we last saw each other, with me sliding over a pack of marlboros. I couldn't remember her name, she never knew mine. I was glad to see she was still in the neighbourhood. Her eyes were dark brown, and she wore a knit shawl her daughter in law gave her, but only because the one her niece gave her was made of 'the wrong materials for a woman like her'.

I nodded to the bus driver, releasing my partner's hand to dig in my pocket for the $2.50 in quarters I had pulled out of my car's cup holders. It was stuck in the parking lot of our apartment building, sadly unable to move from a spot that wasn't mine. The unnumbered and unnamed parking spots had lost their paint, and I hadn't realised my tire was so low. All I could've done was back up, and I still can't help but feel bad for taking someone else's spot. The bus driver gave me a nod and a forced smile, only noticeable by the lift in his moustache. His eyes were green.

The bus held a smell, neither good nor bad, just a faint twinge in the air that you couldn't get anywhere besides a public bus on an unseasonably warm day. I felt Rose let go of my hand as she picked a spot to sit, halfway down the bus in two seats facing forward. She took the window seat. I sat beside her. Her purse rested on her lap as she rhythmically tapped the tips of her shoes against the floor.

She was just slightly too tall for the seat, her knees lifting above the fold in her skirt. My mother used to say her nose was too big for her face. I've always adored the barely visible creases of her nose bridge, remnants of all the times she scrunched her face because I told the most obvious joke I could come up with. I remember when we had gotten her sweater, it was a small corner shop we've long since forgotten the name of. It had been really nice, and I hadn't meant to put it in the dryer but I hadn't been paying attention. Rose said that at least now it was comfortable to wear in the spring.

Every time I shuffled in my seat, I could feel the fibres of the chair moving beneath me. They didn't want me touching them as much as I didn't want to be. They weren't made to be sat on, they were made to look pretty, or scrape an adequate amount of mud off your shoes. With the pattern of random colourful splashes against a navy blue background, maybe it wasn't meant to look pretty either.

"You doing okay?" Rose asked, taking my hand in hers again. I like her voice, it was rather coarse and it sounded like it came from deep within her chest, like every word she said to you she was pulling from within. Sounds cheesy. "You're being quiet."

"Yeah," I forced out, "Just want to be done for the day." As soon as I closed my lips, my tongue filled my entire mouth, suctioning my teeth together. I wouldn't be able to open it even if I wanted to. She smiled at me and rubbed her thumb over my knuckles. I like her smile, it was crooked and chipped at from years of... whatever she had been doing.

I looked past her, out the window. We were passing a couple of fast food chains, all in the same structure surrounded by parking lots larger than the buildings. The thin strips of grass separating the vast expanses of discoloured concrete were growing to be coarse and yellow, nearly blending in.