He waits for her.
He’s standing at the lonely bus stop at the corner of 3rd and Maple.
And he waits for her.
She said she would meet him at midnight after HE went to sleep, when only a single streetlight would light the path to their future.
He had quit his mundane office job earlier that day.
He told them that he needed a fresh start, somewhere new, where he would be happier.
And he almost believed himself.
What he didn’t tell them was that it was with the girl from the donut shop who he had secretly been seeing for months now.
He had just worked a 12 hour shift at the office, missed the bus, and angrily began his tired tread home.
“Coffee sounds good,” he thought out loud.
The damn donut shop doesn’t take credit cards.
They never did.
But the girl at the counter, the one with the brown and red hair assured him it was fine and that she would cover it out of her tips.
As he turned to leave he noticed a discoloration behind her left ear.
Without thinking, he brushed the hair back and saw the bruises that decorated the side of her head.
She was shocked that anyone had dared to actually notice.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she bit her lip and a pained expression appeared on her face.
He realized he overstepped his bounds and backed up, fleeing out the door.
He avoided the coffee shop ever since that night.
He felt foolish and embarrassed and couldn’t bear the thought of the girl looking at him that way ever again.
So he took the back alleys and such to avoid running into her.
That beautiful, fragile girl whose eyes had consumed his every thought.
One night in the not too distant future, he arrived home to find a visitor sitting on the steps of his building.
She was dressed in black from head to toe and was gothically delicious looking to him.
He walked to her with the intent to apologize but she pressed her perfectly painted finger to his lips and shook her head.
She took the keys out of his hand and let herself in.
He never did find out how she knew where he lived.
Stolen kisses in back rooms and notes shoved in pant pockets and the smell of donuts and coffee and the fear that her husband would lay his hands on her again if he found out where she was and what she was doing.
Beads of sweat furrowed on his brows as he nervously checked his watch over and over again.
He started to second guess himself.
Did she back out?
They had discussed their plan over and over again for weeks now.
What if she changed her mind?
What if she didn’t believe in him?
What if she thought he wouldn’t come?
Did HE find out?
Did HE injure her so badly that she couldn’t leave?
Should he go get her?
What if she was already on her way and he went there?
Could he stand by and do nothing?
She doesn’t really love him.
He was an idiot to think she could leave, that they could create a new life together and abandon everything in their past.
As he turned to walk away, the late night bus approaches, the last one of the evening.
The driver opens the door, and as he looked up to refuse the ride, he looked up into her face, standing there in the entryway.
She smiled and held out a seed in her hand.
He takes her hand.
He waits for her.