The wait

`It's 4.30

Drip. Drip. Your sweat plastered onto your back.

You're sitting there under the scorching sun, waiting.

Waiting for that accursed bus to appear at the bend.

Tick.Tock. the clock's ticking away on your wrist.

It's 4.32 now,

shouldn't the bus be here by now?

Your mouth turns dry, as you brain begins

to race.
What if the bus had broken down?
What if the bus was still in a traffic jam due to somesort of traffic collison?
Oh My God.
What if the bus had been in THE traffic collison?

Your heart paces faster, and worry etches itself onto your forehead.

It's 4.36

GOD! The woman said the bus would be by 4.30!
She said, 4.30

What is she playing at? Where is she? Who does she think she is?

You feel an irrational anger boil under the heat.

Where is she? Where is that woman?

You are never allowing this ever again. NEVER again.

STOP.

there it is!
The bus, it's FINALLY rounding the corner.

You see little heads near the window, as the bus crawls to you.

You search for that familiar face among the squashed features promptly pressed to the window.

You squint for the features imprinted to your brain in between waving arms.

You can't see it. You can't see him.

You frown at the thought of his younger form squashed between the much more older bodies in the bus.

Wait.
Oh god, what if he's not on the bus?
what if he got left behind?
what if...

and you stop. as you see a small figure sitting quietly in the bus.

Head down, shoulder slumped and a contemplative twist of the head; the relief you feel is tinged with the sadness that will never leave.

The head turns, and you see the ears rise from its droopy state as a limb stretch out and remove each digit and press itself to the frosty glass.

A smile.
A wave.

You happily reciprocate.

You watch as the figure bombards itself from the bus at the earliest chance.
You grin as it canons itself under outstretched arms of others, and jump into your awaiting arms.
You laugh as he hugs you and starts gabbing in a language you must've once known, but had forgotten.

'How was your class trip?'

The child smiles.

'Was it fun?'

The child nods.

"You wanna go again?"

He smiles and nods.

You sigh, and laugh at yourself. You know you'll feel torn, worried and insane about this again.

but you couldn't say no to that lil' boy;


your exception.