Falling in Love with Zara

 

“SHIT!” I told myself, after missing the early bus and stranding myself in that godforsaken bus stop. The next bus was miles away, and I had to wait for an hour. No one ever came to the bus stop; it was always me, the gloomy sun, and the dusty bench. A shallow breeze carried some dust into my eye, and I rubbed furiously to fix my vision. Something felt canny that day, fewer cars passed by, the sunlit the sky with a strange shade of orange and the most remarkable thing happened!

While I was sitting like an idiot, thrown my legs on top of each other and being a lazy sloth, and my hands scratching my head, I noticed a click-clack sound approaching towards me; I picked my head up to see what it was. Damn! It was Zara; her red heels kissed the concrete road producing the rhyme. Her skinny black jeans revealed her curves, a little baggy around her foot but perfectly stitched around the thighs. Like a fish on bait, my eyes were hooked to her hips, swinging side to side, mimicking a clock’s pendulum. I wish you could hear those explosions of joy in my heart and petals of love growing in me. Zara had newly moved into town, her dad was from the army, and her mother was a cook. The only time I had spoken to her was on Diwali, where we exchanged sweets, and she smiled at me. Okay! We never really had a conversation, but that smile put my senses out of order. Perhaps, the whole lot of boys had their eyes on her. Anyway, as the click-clack of the heels got louder, the sun brightened like my face. She was wrapped in a blood-red sleeveless top, with a black rose embossed on it. Her right hand sported a silver watch, which I’m sure never works as time itself would bend for such a diva. Time in and time out, if you’d watch closely, her top would jerk a little, and her waist would appear; maybe I was watching a little too closely.

I shook my head and got myself out of her trance; she was close and looked at me, probably thinking what a douche I was and judging where she could sit to be the farthest from me. Zara arrived at the bus stop and frowned, looking at how dirty the bench was; she eventually sat next to me. My heart was a race car, speeding uncontrollably. “Hey,” she spoke. Her candy pink lips left me dumb; a pair of silver earrings sat elegantly on her. I replied in my best tone, “hello.” Before she said her next words,  A mosquito bothered her, buzzing around her mascara decorated eyes. Oh! I wanted to burry that shity bug right there. She turned to me after the pestering insect had left; a smile grew on her face as she announced, “ the bus is early today.” My heart shattered; the bloody bus was an hour early; she stood up and stepped on to the bus’s door.  My legs refused to move; in despair, I prepared to board the bus when I  heard her say, “ come on! I spotted a vacant two-seater.”

The story is yours now, a firmament of your imagination. I hope some parts of my writing made you smile.