I left my house under a cloudy sky that threatened and then delivered rain. It was an inauspicious start to the day and one that would irrevocably influence Today’s Perfect Moments. It didn’t cancel them, but it profoundly affected them, and I only realized that after I started typing.
I ate lunch with my girlfriend, but we barely spoke. I am sure we exchanged words, but as I look back on it, it was more like we were in a silent movie. Since that doesn’t really fit with the era I am typing in, and probably doesn’t relate to anyone reading, I will find a better analogy. It was like we were the extras in a dinner scene. We were the background. Our words were brief and muted, but no less meaningful. Perhaps we have entered the stage in our relationship where we share a kind of shorthand. We can communicate by looks and subtle gestures.
Getting off the bus
My commute is long and exacerbated by construction that will eventually speed up the whole process–so they say. I’ve written about it many times and won’t bore you with another recap of plodding kilometres along the world’s longest street. On this particular afternoon I managed to fall asleep quickly and dream away half my trip.
At my stop, three of us got off the bus, weary and half asleep, reached the intersection and with barely a nod, broke off and headed in the three separate directions that didn’t lead back to where we came from. I call it, commuters’ short-hand. We would see each other on the bus again. Maybe it will be a hot day, maybe a cold day, or maybe a rainy day.