Journey

The brick buildings passed by on the left and the right as the bus rolled through town.
He had woken up early in order to make his way a few hours away to another village a few miles up north, which wasn't, all-together, a necessary trip. But nevertheless, he had settled on the premise of going there a few days before and his mind was set. He felt he owed it to himself to stick to his resolve. The previous day had involved simply too much havoc and uncontrolled mayhem that this little gesture of self-control seemed to be all he had. The sun was slowly creeping up above the horizon, and what had been dark two-dimensional scene dressings slowly developed into luscious and fertile trees. They offered the third dimension every time the breeze coming off of the water moved the branches enough to exhibit the shoots of sunlight behind them, casting all sorts of shadows. There was nothing much left, or rather yet out, on the streets, except a few cats which would occasionally appear on fences and bus-stops watching the bus crawl past. He sat quietly, staring out the window, until the fog started to separate from the earth.
She hadn't really been able to get any sleep, and had decided after waking up for the seventh time in the night to just get dressed and go early. She was on the bus going north in order to meet a friend from university. The two of them had known each other for a few years, but hadn't had the opportunity to see each other in about eight months. She hadn't yet finished school, and every time she talked to someone who had it was this constant reminder of the fact. Nevertheless, there wasn't anything else going on that day and it seemed like a good little escape. While she lay in bed the night before, unable to fall asleep from the pills she had to take, she had thought about excuses she might use to get out of the day if it took a turn for the worse. After forty-nine minutes of lying with her eyes wide open, staring at the little patch of grey spackle in the ceiling, she had developed a little rolodex of possible reasons. As the sun started to climb a bit, she took the time to go over them in her head. She had made up her mind that she was going to have to use one today, and wanted to be prepared. She sat silent as the bus sped down the road until the trees shook the dew off of their leaves.
He hadn't yet looked at her, but it was only a matter of time. Ten minutes or so after he had broken his stare from the window, he finally noticed her hair. There wasn't much particular about her, but it was this fact that seemed to make her stand out. He was still a little out of it, and as he looked at the back of her head he realized he couldn't quite realize what color her hair was. The low-powered lights of the bus cast everything in a drab and pale yellow, and it kept throwing light waves off that seemed to be of different frequencies. It became almost a meditation for him, trying to pin down exactly what color he was looking at. He had narrowed it down to somewhere between blonde and red, and settled in his mind on some sort of strawberry blonde. But as the sun came up and everything became more clear the pursuit of color became less of a challenge, and he turned back towards the window. It was double paned and some rain or dew had gotten in between the two panes. He could make out her hair in the reflection, slightly distorted through the liquid. Trying to trace the water's path consumed him.
She hadn't yet looked at him, but it was only a matter of time. She knew someone had started looking at her, though, but she felt too nauseous to turn around and see who it was. As if their chins were connected by an invisible thread of string, as soon as he turned his head to the right, she turned hers to look at him. He hadn't shaved, probably in a few days. She wasn't sure about this fact; some guys grow stubble faster than others. Asides from this, she was amazed by how unbelievably still his head was. She could see the grey and blue of his eyes looking at the creeks of rain in between the window, and started to move her eyes with his. Following his pupils in the window became like staring at the horizon on a moving ship and she felt her whole body, down to her stomach, stand still. After a while everything except his eyes became a blur, as they slowly moved through the glass. She felt like they were looking right at each other, and couldn't handle it anymore. She turned her head and rested it on the cold window. The chill went down her spine and into her feet, and she curled her toes in reaction.
He wanted to know what her hair against his cheek felt like.
She wanted to know what having him trace her curves with his eyes felt like.
They wanted to stop the bus and stand up and feel what it was like to control anything.
The bus just kept cutting through the fog and the dew and the chances of them ever feeling anything at all.