The Commute

I got to the bus stop earlier than usual. I normally work from home a bit in the morning, and then take a later bus to work. I hate dealing with crowded buses and traffic jams on 520. This morning, though, I was up early and decided to just head in.

As I expected, the bus was crowded. I felt lucky to find a seat in the back row, though, where we sat leg-to-leg, 5 across. Listening to NPR on my sanDisk, I was riding in my own little world, looking out at the birds on Lake Washington, oblivious to those around me. Commuting is weird like that: 100 people on a bus, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, each in a little bubble of existence; earbuds firmly in place, nose buried in a book, traveling in their own customized version of Life.

Then, I see her.

She was sitting in the seat just behind the rear door, the seat with the plexiglass in front of it that shields the rider from the wind and rain that invariably seems to leak through the cracks in the door. The plexiglass also acts as a mirror, if something dark is in front of it, like someone wearing a brown jacket. Like today.

Soft, rounded cheeks, eyes darting back and forth as they stared out the window, lips curling every now and then into a gentle smile. I wondered what she was smiling about. She's one of the few with no earbuds, no book open; she's riding along, taking in life, or caught up in her daydreams or memories. Apparently she doesn't need outside assistance to customize her commute.

"Wow," I thought almost out loud, "she's gorgeous." I wonder why I had not seen her before. Sure, there are lots of commuters, but Seattle is a small enough city that you start recognizing people around town. Especially on the commute to the Eastside, and especially attractive women. I know I hadn't seen her before, but I was immediately captivated. More so than I usually am when my gaze can't seem to wander away from a gorgeous woman. There's something about her, something ethereal and mysterious, that though I can't put my finger on it; it's there, it's visceral, and it's god damned enthralling!

I stared for another few minutes. I was fascinated. Her expressions kept changing; she's got something major going through her mind. I want in.

All of the sudden, she stared forward, into the plexiglass mirror, and looked right at me. Jolts of electricity shot through my heart and my head. I looked away, but couldn't help but look back from time to time throughout the rest of the commute. And she seemed to do the same thing. Was she catching me looking at her, wondering who that freak in the back of the bus is? Or was she feeling excited and nervous like me, thinking that I was catching her staring at me?

When the bus stopped, the long line of Microsofties filed out the front of the bus. She got off ahead of me, and walked the opposite direction I was going. When I got off, I moved out of the way of others exiting, leaned against the bus shelter, and just gazed towards her. When she looked over her shoulder, I waved and gave a little "hello" smile. She grinned, and walked back towards me.

"What's the deal?" she said as she came up to me.

"Sorry, I know this stuff only happens in Hollywood, but your eyes sent sparks through me. I've only met a couple women who have done that to me, and they turned out to be very important in my life."

She smiled, and reached out her hand. "I'm Allison," she said