Sitting by the window of the shuttle bus, she loved staying in the front seat mostly because of the soft breeze she enjoyed. She often said, "I don't feel comfortable stepping out for people when they reach their stop."
Her finger touched the bracelet on her left wrist. She caressed it gently. It was getting old, but it all felt new the feelings, and the departure.
The bus moved slowly, maybe because of the school rules that insisted all buses must slow down at all times, both inside and outside the school. The school gate to her faculty wasn’t really far, but on this day, it seemed slow and she enjoyed it.
The bus passed through the Faculty of Health Sciences, and she peeped out of the window, watching. Bougainvillea petals lay scattered along the path, their bright purple color standing out against the dusty ground. It reminded her of him. On that day, it was raining softly when they stood near the mosque at her faculty. He had given her the bracelet with his shaky hands and low voice. They didn’t really say much to each other, but she remembered the dried-wet flowers on the floor that day.
Resting her head on the window, her mind drifted away for a second. She thought about getting into the lecture hall with not-so-familiar faces no one to save her a seat or giggle at her.
The thought of using her new notebook crossed her mind. She imagined how it would smell, as she always smelled all her notes after buying them. They smelled clean and woody. She loved them—new notebooks, old novels, newspapers, and magazines with glossy pages. She didn’t always finish reading them, but she just loved having them.
