Stop

Dusk was approaching. Her greatest dream at that moment was to miraculously bridge the distance separating her from home and instantly find herself in the warm shelter of her apartment. Her blond hair, struggling against the wind, perfectly enveloped her eyes, making her movements resemble drunken wandering. The weather precisely mirrored what she had felt earlier that day when she had learned the news. She couldn't shake off the depressing thoughts. All she wanted now was a cup of hot tea, warm sheets, and headphones. Let this day finally be over!

She reached the bus stop at the intersection. She had no chance of noticing the man running from behind the newsstand. The impact was severe. Hit on the shoulder, she spun around, staggered, and at the last moment caught the newsstand's gutters. It hurt.

The young boy was definitely better prepared for the autumn weather. The dark hood of his jacket and sturdy boots continued to recede for a moment, then, braking, turned back toward her. He quickly picked up the book that had fallen from his hand from the puddle and walked over unsteadily.

"Oh... I'm so sorry. Gosh, I think I forced the right of way," the joke definitely didn't go over well. "Sorry. Does it hurt? Ugh, stupid question... I'm so sorry again... so sorry," he fell silent.

She was angry for a moment, but the awkward "oh" amused her. She looked at him with her usual mixture of shyness, tiredness, and curiosity. He had a pleasant, if slightly gruff, voice and dark eyes.

"It's okay," she replied quickly.

"Do you live far away? I'll help." He smiled gently, though awkwardly.

Their eyes met briefly. She glanced at the bus stop.

"You're missing it. You must have been in a hurry.

" "Yes. I mean... No, I wasn't in a hurry. The next one will come. I just like running." He smiled stupidly.

"Oh yes... I noticed." She glanced at him furtively again.

Suddenly, uncontrollable thoughts began to race through her mind, as if they had been released from their cage and were wandering in circles, clueless about which direction to go. For a moment, she felt like staying there in the slashing rain, the howling wind, her shoulder aching, leaning against the kiosk. To stay so that this conversation could last as long as possible

.

He left home too late again. He'd been telling himself for a long time that he finally needed to get on track with punctuality, but putting his promise into action proved exceedingly difficult. He wasn't lacking in ambition, however—he impulsively signed up for Spanish classes and, surprising himself, consistently attended for six weeks. While he had to miss class once due to a busy evening at work, he usually managed to be home by five-thirty. He'd throw his briefcase aside and grab an early dinner, if he could find anything edible in the long-uncleaned refrigerator. Sometimes he even repeated his last lesson. That day, he figured he'd still have time to check his email. The long-awaited email appeared in his inbox—he replied immediately. In an instant, thirty minutes had passed. Before he knew it, it was very late. He grabbed his book and notebook, locked the door, and ran to the bus stop. In the distance, he spotted a bus approaching. "You lucky bastard!" he smiled to himself.

*

"So..." he began, then paused. She had pretty green eyes. He noticed a stubborn streak and a great deal of sensitivity lurking in them. Underneath a thin coat, she wore a skirt that fell just below the knee—probably not the best idea for this weather. Spanish became less important.

"Thank you. I can handle it." He felt she had grown more confident, though her gaze remained in marked dissonance with her voice.

"Are you sure?" he persisted, though he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His eyes, however, couldn't hide the excitement the encounter had evoked in him.

"Yes, definitely. Thanks for your concern. Besides... it doesn't hurt anymore," she lied against her will.

"Aha." For a few seconds of silence, he tried unsuccessfully to find her gaze. "Okay. Good luck." He slowly turned away. Unconsciously, he walked in the opposite direction of the bus stop.

"Hey!" he turned hopefully. "The bus... or you'll miss it again."

*

She lies in bed, covered by a thick duvet, in complete silence, interrupted only occasionally by the sound of driving rain beating furiously against the window. A single thought rolls through her mind, drowning out all others, haunting her, and stirring within her an anger far greater than that stirred by

the cold wind and the morning's events. She buries her head in her hands. A deep regret, familiar to her, rests within her.