Today i saw something.
I was waiting for the number 7 bus to come at about 10:30 at night at the bus exchange, sitting in the seats on the side at platform C, reading a book. Hard Times, Charles Dickens. To my right sat a black-bob-haired girl maybe 20-21 wearing a red coat with black buttons. Across from me sat a young mother 23-25 with her child who was maybe 3-4 and they all sat and waited. Finally to my left sat a man. This man was maybe 38-45 it was hard to tell. He had a rather unshaven, coarse look to him with a sandy beard and unkempt and unwashed hair pulled back into a small ponytail. He wore trackpants and a jacket. He had a small star tattoed onto his cheek below his eye. He never said a word.
As I sat there, on one of the odd times I would look up from my book to think, I saw the young boy smiling. Not just smiling, but grinning ear to ear in a way that threatened to take his top off. It was a infectious smile, one that the veiwer cannot help but reciprocate. He then covered his face for a second or too, giggled, and then threw his hands out wide. He burst into a refrain of laughter and once again smile that could help but be mirrored upon my own face. I looked to the left and saw the man doing the same thing. He covered his face and uncoverd it, covered it and uncovered, uncovered and covered it smiling all the while.
As I watched them, enthralled in their game, the actions changed. The man shook his fist at the kid in mock anger and the kid laughed and shook his head. This time the kid did no give a sympathetic action. This time he did something different.
He held up two fingers.
The man laughed.
The kid laughed.
And the girl began to sing... I don't know what song it was.. In fact it was less a song than something pure melody, feeling cutting through the cold surround that didn't seem to belong here, doves amongst a murder of crows.
The man's eyes watered and he pulled back his sleeve a little. Weeping sores and scabs. Junky tattoos.
"Smart little kid" he whispers.
And the kid...
The kid looked sad...
The kid looked sad...
The kid looked sad...
Boy, he looked sad...
Then my bus came...
So I left...
I wish i hadn't...
I want to know what comes next...
But hell, don't we all want to know that.
So i got on my bus.
So they dissapeared into my memory.
Ghosts.
