The girl on the bus

When I was little, there was a girl on the bus that to me was the most beautiful girl in town.

She did not go to the school my friends went, she did not go to the places others went. Nobody I knew, knew her. Only me. I know she lived on the corner of our street — a neighbour. I never knew her name, saw her family once or twice. Now, being older I know that her sister knew that I liked her. Sometimes I though she liked me. We looked at each other a lot in the Bus.

She had long brown hair and beautiful brown eyes , never smiled a lot, only a bit. For years, we were in the bus together and I was so shy that the only thing I manager was letting her in like a gentlemen. That day, she smiled more

I ever wondered if she ever thought about me , thought about what happened to this guy that stared at her for years.

Maybe, this tale is better like that, maybe when getting to know each other, people tend to bring their fears, insecurities conflict and inner demons to this world.

So, the story above is better as it is. The imagination of the beautiful girl of my youth. No name, not even her voice I remember, barley her body and stlye but her face, her subtile smile, her eyes and that she was special to me.

The girl on the bus.