I could hear the bus in the next street, the swishing noise of the suspension lowering the passengers waiting to exit. The gentleman’s eyes were still firmly fixed on my stockings. He must have known the bus was coming and did not want to miss a thing. The bus drove into the street; he shifted his position as I stood up. I edged my way to the front of the path, steadying myself for the bus to come. As the bus got closer the gentleman shifted once more, his eyes firmly attached to the back of my legs. This obviously wasn’t his bus.

The bus doors opened for me and the heat escaped out of the door, the bus driver was sweating and I proceeded up the steps and paid for my ticket. The old man finally lifted his head to look at my face for the first time, on his lips lay a broken smile and the bus sped off.

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