Late Arrival,Pretty Passenger….(LAP) part II

<blockquote>The Real Deal?</blockquote> I think she must have heard me—or so I thought. But then I noticed the faint smirk on her face through the mirror as she slowly checked herself out. For what felt like a generous stretch of time, we kept stealing glances at each other through that mirror.If mirrors could speak, I’m sure it would have told us to get it over with. No words were spoken—just eyes saying what the mouth couldn’t utter. Meanwhile, I kept talking to myself. Thony was completely unaware of what was happening; he was lost in his own world, headset plugged into his phone, oblivious to the silent exchange unfolding beside him. In that instant, my mind drifted to the popular TV show How I Met Your Mother.Or maybe this could turn into one of those “chocolate love stories” like the one I once read on Instagram—a post by Ini Dima-Okojie, where she talked about craving a particular chocolate brand that wasn’t available in Nigeria but could only be found in London. To her surprise, a mysterious admirer got it for her, and that became the beginning of their love story—one that eventually led to marriage. <blockquote>The Setback?</blockquote> About an hour into the journey, I heard her say something to the driver. It sounded like a whisper—though maybe it only seemed that way because I had an AirPod in. Turns out, she was telling the driver she would be alighting at the next bus stop, which I had already suspected. The shuttle came to a halt, and as she stepped out, she winked at me. Then the shuttle drove off. In that instant, I knew I had messed up. A question immediately crossed my mind: Had she been reading my thoughts? Her face and height stayed with me throughout the day, even though her presence was long gone. “Till we meet again,” I muttered under my breath. Did she die? No. The phrase just felt right—Till we meet again. I probably should have asked for her number, but there was no time. Nature was against it, and truth be told, the chances of anything tangible happening between us were slim. At the end of the day, I’m glad it remained just a moment and not something permanent. If nature wanted us together, maybe we would have been. And if you’re out there, stuck between choosing yourself and choosing a passing vessel of emotion—dearest sir or ma, please choose yourself. Rendered by the Jotter Keeper.

Late Arrival, Pretty Passenger

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