The Stranger

I was early for the bus that morning. By ten minutes, when normally I’d only arrive five beforehand. Even that wasn’t so much caution as optimism. The bus comes round about eight fifteen, give or take a few minutes. Almost always give though, and more than that at times. That’s the way public transport is around here; I couldn’t really say if it was good or bad compared to anywhere else. I’ve been taking the eight fifteen for a long time.

It wasn’t until I sat down that I noticed him, or rather, I noticed his eyes. They moved slowly from side to side, ever watching. Bright, and almost at odds with the rest of him. He hadn’t reacted as I sat down to wait, but somehow I knew he would be consciously aware of my presence. One eye was green, the other hidden by strands of hair that hang in front of his face, nearly down to his chin. The rest of his hair was black and no shorter, falling untied around him. A light wind blew, the morning air making me shiver, but it didn’t seem to touch him.

It felt strange, sharing the wait without another. Normally I would sit alone, or on Fridays there was an old lady who took the same bus. Sometimes teenagers would hang around, endlessly chewing their gum. It was only on rare occasions others came, but I was sure I would remember if I had seen this man before.

I relaxed on the cool stone bench, but the man remained standing a few steps away. He didn’t even slouch or casually lean on anything; rather, he seemed in a constant state of readiness. Ready for what, I could only guess. Aside from the faint movement of his chest from breathing, he was perfectly still. By contrast had begun to fidget almost as soon as I stopped walking. Seeing the way he stood, there was a vague temptation to jump up suddenly or clap, just to see if he reacted. I knew I wouldn’t though; he would do no more than scorn or ignore me, of course, but unlike the kids I often yelled at, the man seemed to have a presence that dispelled such disrespectful thoughts. It was only the strength of my curiosity that stopped me ignoring him altogether, as he was I.

His skin was darker than most, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t ethnic. Too long out in the sun, maybe. He didn’t look the type to deliberately get a tan. A single pale scar crossed his face, narrowly missing his visible eye, but otherwise his skin was unblemished. His body was thin and lacked muscle, but he looked athletic. I didn’t doubt he could beat me a race, anyway. He was tall too, but not quite the handsome stranger most young women flittered their time away chasing after. His face was plain, and his expression blank. Not even his eyes, vibrant as they were, revealed what he was thinking.

I glanced at my wrist, my watch revealing the bus was now five minutes late. The man didn’t seem perturbed, but then he didn’t seem much at all to me. Looking around casually I took a look over his clothing. It was all dark, but none of it truly black; just dimmer shades of green and red. His clothing was slightly worn and faded, and I was pleased to see an absence of any silly designer labels. A thin metallic chain looped around his neck, presumably holding some amulet hidden under his shirt. Strange, when the rest of his dress was so practical, but who knew why he wore it? No earrings. No footwear either, which was unusual around these parts. He carried nothing on him, and didn’t look to have anything in his pockets either.

I turned back to the street as I heard the bus approach and slow down. A quick check of my watch; eight twenty two. There was nothing unusual in that, sadly. The door slid slowly open and I stepped aboard. The bus driver gave a brief nod as I handed over the coin from my pocket. The door hissed closed and I took the same seat as always, three down and to the left. A friend would join me at the next stop, and we would talk of weather and politics.

As the bus took off again I glanced out the window. The man was still standing there, still watching unmoving. An old friend of mine used to say that all men had a story. As the bus turned a corner and the waiting man vanished from my sight, I wondered what his was.