Read My Shorts

Route 19

Route 19

Although slightly a longer route to work Matthew preferred the Route 19 bus, as every morning he stood a chance of seeing Her.

Yesterday she'd looked up as he went past, and his hand had risen of its own volition to wave. And she'd smiled. It was a mere turn of the lips, but he'd read the future in the faint smile and determined that this morning he'd make her smile properly.

And there she was, her stride measured yet purposeful, head held erect and proud, the starkness of the graveyard walls only highlighting her beauty. Her brown eyes pinned him to his seat. He waved and she smiled.

He forgot to get off at his stop a few miles further down the road.

Running back to the office after missing his stop, he'd watched in dismay as bits of him wobbled and sweat stained his shirt. Resolution set in, the future was there in a pair of dark eyes, and he determined he had to meet her. But not yet.

Months later, the new, slim and trim Matthew had ordered his new bicycle and was preparing for the 'accidental' meeting with the woman of his all too frequent dreams. Most mornings now she stopped and waved back as he travelled. The hand that waved bore no ring and the simple fifties style dresses she tended to wear accentuated both her figure and his imagination. But this morning was different. Today she had walked past with her head bent low, hair cascading over her eyes and tear tracks marring the dark eyes he so longed to look into across a table.

With his heart pounding he got off the bus at the next stop, but she was gone and all that was left was the faint smell of rotting flowers from the graves of those on the other side of the wall.

But he had to meet her.

That night, he took delivery of his new bike, tested it thoroughly and prepared for the meeting of his life.

"Er, hi..."

She didn't reply at first. Her hand covered her mouth, her face was pale and her eyes went wide as she took a step away from him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you, it's just that I've been seeing you every day for months now and I wanted to say hello." He felt himself starting to burble and stopped. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling. My name's..."

"Matthew," she finished for him.

"That's right, but how...?"

She pointed to a lamppost where a sad collection of flowers wilted in the heat of summer. It was a small collection, only a few friends and family had bothered marking the place where some poor soul had come a cropper on the busy road. A picture was taped to the post and Matthew looked at the fading colour picture in its not quite waterproof plastic covering.

"Oh," he said. "It's not the best picture of me is it? I never really liked that tie. Was that why you were crying the other day?"

She nodded.

"Oh, well thank you, it's nice to know the wave was mutual."

"I didn't think I'd ever get to meet you," she said finally, her face still pale. "You made every day a little brighter, and then I thought you'd passed over."

"It's still no good though is it?" he said bitterly. "I finally get to meet the girl of my dreams and I die, how the hell is that fair?" He slumped against the lamppost where the messages of love faded gently with time and his reality kicked in. The bike disappeared and his clothes morphed into the ones he'd been wearing on the day he died: cheap suit, cartoon tie, shoes with one lace always undone. 

"The only thing worse than being a ghost is being me as a ghost." 

He sighed and then jumped as a cold hand slipped into his.

"You're not alone," she said. "And now neither am I."

~~~

I originally posted this one in #wattpadwednesday but came across it while I was looking for something else on my computer recently. I never cease to be concerned about my own memory as until I re-read this one I'd completely forgotten I'd ever written it. So I've given it a little dust off, have tweaked it a little from the original and have posted it here nestled amongst its fellow bits of short oddity.