“Why’s your hair so curly?”
“I don’t know.”
That was years ago on the bus to school.
My life’s montage rolled out smoothly to the tune of such comments.
“Are you working tomorrow?”
“No,am off for two days thankfully. You?”
“No chance of that. You know what they say no rest for the wicked.”
Chuckling we said our goodbyes.
Disembarking from the train, she turned left, I turned slightly left then right.
I was, I am and will always be the one with the hazel eyes, and curls that never lied.
An unwanted bridge between the divide.
I am really sorry just realised I haven’t replied last weeks comments will go straight to it now.
Written for Friday fictioneers a writing challenge hosted by Rochelle. The picture was provided by the lovely C.E. Ayr the task is to write a 100 words story inspired by it. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge. Thank you for stopping by… do click on the link to read other stories.
lifehomeandaway 
Such an interesting thought here, I wonder about the people on my train. I see them everyday
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I wonder about them too.
🙂
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Dear Chioma,
So much story and feeling in few words. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks Rochelle!
🙂
🙂
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So many stories of those lives spent getting the same train everyday. I hope one day he will turn left with her and keep going that way!
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Hmmm ….
Not very likely though.
Thanks Iain.
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Turn left! Turn left! I enjoyed reading this thank-you.
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Thank you!
🙂
🙂
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“Commuting acquaintances” I would call them. Maybe one day they’ll be going the same way.
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Maybe.
🙂
🙂
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I love watching people on a train. I do try to connect. We Indians always can get everyone’s story by the time they disembark!
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LOL!
That would be a lot of stories.
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Stretches your imagination!😊
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People who know each other but are strangers, I loved the atmosphere of this piece
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Thank you so much!
🙂
🙂
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The potential will never be fulfilled unless someone makes a move, but that’s life I guess. Nicely done.
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Thanks Sandra.
🙂
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Don’t speak to strangers, I say. But maybe one day one of you will say, “Coffee?”
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Perhaps who knows.
Thank you.
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I wonder how we ever connect… we meet and pass… nice story.
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So true.
Thanks Bjorn.
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This piece reminded me of a poem about two youngsters who grew up very close and then drifted apart over the years as each went their own way. A very thought-provoking story.
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My thoughts are in the same region.
Kids who went to school together but never noticed how different they were until adulthood came around.
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Reminds me of a girl I used to see on the bus every day. She came to my wedding!
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Oh wow!
That’s lovely.
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