On a Tuesday evening, I find myself watching people getting on and off the bus from the corner table of a nearby café

I often find myself watching people.  Not interacting with them mind you, just observing. Observation is most effective when your subject is unaware of your scrutiny.  People are truest when they cannot be observed but those ignorant of watchers are almost as honest.  Camouflaged by my tall cup of well-sugared tea, I remain an objective viewer.  Well… almost.  I never can help but feel a little betrayed when the little stories I weave around them prove false. 

Like the consummate business man, complete with suit jacket and tie.  He has a face as free of expression as his suit is free of wrinkles.  I watch him for a while as he stands waiting, presumably for the bus.  He checks his wristwatch every few moments, shaking it slightly as if scolding it for not forcing time to pass quicker.  I have him going home, alone, to a very clean and organized home.  It's easier to keep your home clean if it's empty.  And then she comes, breaking the illusion.  She is older prom queen gorgeous with the look of someone who will always be pretty even if it's only because she'll always believe she is.  She sparkles and laughs as she arrives in a car that probably passed the 'last legs' stage a couple months ago and has since moved on to 'should be dead, but isn't'.  As it groans to a stop in front of my lonely Joe Blow, I notice that her presence makes him beautiful.  With a smile and passionate kiss for a greeting, he climbs into the ragged car.

I watch them leave from my little alcove of observation, nursing my tea, waiting for the bus stop to summon more interesting individuals.  When the evening finally darkens past twilight, I return to my very clean and very organized home, thinking of two beautiful people.