A boy is sitting on the seat directly opposite to yours. Clearly bored, he is looking at the signs stuck on the walls. Then he turns and looks at you. You both stare at each other, waiting to see who will be the first to break the eye contact. Because you donít know who he is, and staring like this isnít what you normally do, you look away.


Your eyes rise and heís still looking at you. Is it something about your face? Is he taking pleasure in admiring your faceís beauty? Or is he amused by its plainness? You have no idea. He breaks eye contact and looks away, a small rise at the corners of his lips. Is that a blush?


Your mind gets lost in your boring daily stuff - work, home, groceries, bills. Life hasnít been very easy lately. Then you realize that he is looking at you again. Usually you would look away, like you did the first time. But you donít. You have no idea why. You simply look at him. He looks to be around seventeen, two years younger than you. He has no acne. Lucky him. But he has a dark spot above his right eye, near his eyebrow.


You ask yourself if heís going to talk to you. You hope not. You donít like talking to strangers. Yet, you would like to know more about this boy you have been staring at for several minutes. Are you going to start a conversation? No.


His phone rings. He takes the call.


You watch as his expression changes. First he looks happy. It must be someone he likes. Then thoughtful. Perhaps he has been asked a question. A few words are exchanged and he puts the mobile back in his pocket. Was it a friend? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?


He continues staring at you.


You wonder things about him. Is he heading home from school? Perhaps to a part-time job? Or to a friendís place? What type of guy is he? The popular jock? The class clown? Or the one who answers each of the teacherís questions?


The bus comes to a stop. Itís his stop. He gets up. As he leaves the bus he turns, looks directly at you, and gives you one last smile.



Thanks to Marty for his help