Miriam
Drawing by me
Tall, robust thighs, medium bust, black hair, sexual lips, cinnamon skin color and gray eyes..
He sees her every morning waiting for the bus while he eats his breakfast in the cafeteria in front of the stop..
He estimates it to be about thirty years old, although his graceful figure gives him about five years less..
That day he dares to go out to board her and unwittingly his glances cross and he is immersed in the air of the tropic that emerges from his pupils..
He raises his hand in greeting and she smiles, as if making fun of such a parka way of wanting to know someone..
-My name is Tristan..
She seems to scrutinize him in seconds before answering him, like the modern recognizing robots they use in secret state facilities..
-My name is Miriam.
He stretches out his hand and he narrows it.
It is warm like the sun on the equator.
-Are you also waiting for the bus?
-No.
Silence takes hold of everything for seconds.
The noises of the environment seem to mimic it.
-I have breakfast every morning in front of this place and I have seen you here all the time and I was curious to meet you,
Now the right character has appeared.
The one who is accustomed to the concrete jungle has learned to survive in it.
-Are you the one who looks at me every day?
It takes him by surprise.
I feel like you give me a daily X-ray. Are you a voyeurist?
Her smile betrays that the color of her face has blushed.
-Noooo.
-No what?
-I'm just curious about the color of your skin, it's not common in these places.
-Just that? -he replied with mischief.
That day he wears a short skirt that highlights the shape of his thighs.
He is trapped like the child caught in his misdeed.
-What do you do for a living?
-I'm a psychologist.
-Me, an accountant.
At that moment the collective makes its appearance and she asks him.
-Will you take the bus or will you wait tomorrow to continue talking?
In a daring action he proposes to her.
-What if you arrive earlier and I invite you for breakfast?
-I'll think about it," she says before getting on the transport.
For a week he waited for her but she didn't show up.
She didn't go back to the bus stop either, so she regretted not having accompanied her that day.
When he lost his faith, after a month of waiting, his photo in the newspaper surprised him.
She was one of thirty missing persons on a plane that landed in a jungle.
The remains of his body had been located, devoured by the beasts.
There was a detail that almost gave him a heart attack and made him drink a drink of whiskey in the morning, for the first time in his life.
The accident had occurred two months earlier and the body was located the same day he refused to accompany her on the bus.
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On finishing this story, the reader's first thought is likely to be that the bus ride would have been quite interesting. Your build-up to the conclusion is very effective.
Thank you for sharing this story with the Ink Well community. Thank you for engaging with other writers in the community.
A tragic tale, @joseph1956. Sometimes the smallest decisions have such large consequences.
One piece of feedback for you: you might want to study English pronouns. As I mentioned in your story The Girl on the Train, you tend to mix up the male and female pronouns.
These are some corrections for you:
The correct pronouns:
The correct pronouns:
The correct pronouns:
The correct pronouns:
So, for women, you need to use "she," "her," and "hers." For men, it is "he," "him," and "his." I hope that helps!
Yes, its always an interesting read here! Well done @joseph1956
Great work @jayna am glad you took out time to address those points