Bus Stops
Walking up to the bus stop, he squeezed under the overhang, snapping his umbrella shut as he took his place at the end. There were already quite a few people there occupying the small, dry area, but that's how it always was when it rained, and even more so when it was pouring like today. Hunching his shoulders so as not to take up too much room, he heard a low groan come from the woman next to him. She had been frantically searching her purse when he had walked up, but now had dropped her arms in defeat. She had apparently left something really important where ever she had just come from; he gathered it was too late to go get it when she didn't leave the overhang immediately.
Taking another look at the woman, he noticed something that should have been obvious: she didn't look too happy. Her hair was falling out of her small brown clip, the curls at her temples stuck out in complete defiance of any hair accessory she had tried, her clothes looked like she had slept in them, and there were dark circles under her blood-shot eyes.
He turned away when he noticed that those tired eyes were looking at him as he stared at her. Blushing, he feigned interest in the cars on the street, zooming by on their way to wherever. One car in particular caught his interest though as it cut into the fire lane in front of the bus stop where he and his companions were standing. That's when he noticed the puddle, the rather large puddle, over the edge of the curb - and by that time it was too late. His umbrella snapped open just as the car sped by, but his attempt was in vain - all he heard was an angry "Well isn't this perfect!" as the puddle swamped the bus stop inhabitants.
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all_unwritten Prompt 347, "this is perfect," inspired by SERIOUS BUSINESS FAY that's dumping rain upon my little dorm as I write this.
Taking another look at the woman, he noticed something that should have been obvious: she didn't look too happy. Her hair was falling out of her small brown clip, the curls at her temples stuck out in complete defiance of any hair accessory she had tried, her clothes looked like she had slept in them, and there were dark circles under her blood-shot eyes.
He turned away when he noticed that those tired eyes were looking at him as he stared at her. Blushing, he feigned interest in the cars on the street, zooming by on their way to wherever. One car in particular caught his interest though as it cut into the fire lane in front of the bus stop where he and his companions were standing. That's when he noticed the puddle, the rather large puddle, over the edge of the curb - and by that time it was too late. His umbrella snapped open just as the car sped by, but his attempt was in vain - all he heard was an angry "Well isn't this perfect!" as the puddle swamped the bus stop inhabitants.
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all_unwritten Prompt 347, "this is perfect," inspired by SERIOUS BUSINESS FAY that's dumping rain upon my little dorm as I write this.