I got into a bus, to a placefar away. It isn’t the destination that matters, though; it’s the journey. I sat on one of the rear seats. It wasn’t long before I regretted my choice, as I was tossed about whenever the bus hit a pothole. Ouch! I sat alone, with people all around me.
In front of me was a girl, a silent onlooker. She viewed the outside world with a mixture of wonderment and curiosity. Behind me sat a trio, chatting and giggling the whole time. They didn’t seem my type, so I didn’t bother to make conversation.
I was interested in the music playing in my ears. I hummed along and watched everything happening outside and inside.
My thoughts kept returning to the girl in front. She seemed like an older version of myself; quiet, though people her age, and presumably in her class by the looks of their uniform, were talking on the seats beside her. Just like me. Thoughts ran through her mind, while music flowed through mine.
I wanted to talk to her, maybe about our mutual reluctance to socialise, or anything else we had in common. But something stopped me. Soon she leaned her head on the window and tried to take a nap. I wanted to get to know her. But she seemed at peace with herself, and I didn’t want to disturb her. We reached our destination. She got off, I followed. She went her way, I went mine, wondering how the whole ride might’ve been had I talked to her. I guess that’s how we introverts work!
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