Disconnection

There they sat, a girl and a boy, on opposite sides of each other on the night bus. Lights that stood out among the quiet darkness outside whizzed past them as the bus travelled along bumpy roads and bends. The interior was on the contrary with the buzz of small talk, accompanied by lighting so bright that not a single shadow existed. Both were heedless of the loud chatter and noisy growl of the engine that filled the bus as they were so absorbed in their texts that brought forth a new world to them. They were the only people on that bus who were reading, and they were the only ones who noticed that. 

The girl, who often peered about the bus for a short while and would usually get back to reading her book, fixed her gaze upon the boy who sat on the other row on her left. There was something special about him, besides the fact that he was the only one turning pages on that bus (and almost every other bus ride she has taken). She was drawn towards him, she felt a connection. She kept glancing at him, hoping that he would have the courage that she did not have to speak first. 

The boy took notice of the girl that kept glancing at him, and he couldn't help but steal a few looks at her too. He also felt a special connection to her and was hoping the same. What book is she reading? What book is he reading? They thought. They both wanted so badly to introduce themselves, but why would they want to speak to strangers?

Finally, the dreaded moment came when the girl noticed the boy reaching for his bag and leaving the bus. She stared at him with longing and want, need, as he walked to the exit, hoping that the impossible would happen and that he would return and sit by her side. But the chance of that happening was little to nothing. He matched her desperate eyes before alighting, bidding each other farewell.

He looked at her through the window, never taking his eyes off of her until the bus was out of sight. It was a missed opportunity that he would never forgive himself for.