Waiting for the Bus

The cafe door’s bell went off. I was surprised that I heard it, after you meet who you’ve been waiting for, those details seem to fade away. Honstely, I was tired of looking at her. I was going to look out the window, but I thought it would be construed as rude. People and attention, attention and people. It just gets ridiculous after a while.
I din’t want a fight, so I stared deep into her eyes. They weren’t exactly Liz Taylor lavender.
“So how long have you known.”
“You mean how long has it been, or how long till I found out?”
“How long has it been.”
“What comes next?”
“For me?”
“You or her?”
“Well, that depends on her doesn’t it.” that came out snappish. I knew then that we were going to have a fight about it.
“Does she know?”
“Does he know?”
We both looked away from each other. It was trying to snow ooutside. I hated Minneapolis more than ever, right then, I really hated it.
“He doesn’t know.”
I watched a bus pull up to the stop across the street. No one got on and no one got off.

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