He got on the bus. I turned to the door, our eyes met. He must be a little wet I imagine. It was raining. I saw him holding a pink and blue plastic bag. He must be twenty five years old. It was the way he looked, the way he looked at me, the way he spoke, what he talked. No, no none of it, I won't lie, it was just his white cape and the plastic bag. I froze. I was scared.
He stood on the stairs. I stood still pretending to be calm and turned my head towards the window, looking at him from the corner of my eye. Out of the corner of my eye I concentrated on the blue pink plastic bag, on every move he made, I heard every word he spoke. He was off early from work because of ramzaan. He was fasting. He seemed to be talking too loudly, like he wanted people to hear. I stood still, my heart beating differently. Ashamed now, I wonder if anyone else on the bus thought or felt the same. Because of that white cape.
He put the platic bag under a seat. My heart beating faster then. He stood right at the door of the bus. The bus stopped some place. I turned and saw he wasn't there. I looked under the seat, the plastic bag still lying there. Half a second before I would have screamed and gottten the plastic bag in my hand I saw him get back on the bus. I realised he had gotten off to make way for others to get down. But that didn't calm me down still, it left me worse. Now the bus was more crowded and I no longer had a clear view of him or the plastic bag. I stood frozen, I could feel the physical strain of the effort I made to concentrate on him. He kept looking at his watch, and I was sure it was going to happen. Not thinking once that he was looking at his watch because of his fast.
Then he got off the bus at some stop and left with his blue pink plastic bag.
Relief? No. I was angry, so mad at what had happened, ashamed of myself. All it took was that white cape. So mad I wanted to scream, cry.
Forgive me.
