Minerva recorded a flight of fancy in her blog a couple of days ago and Asiya decided to let her imagination run wild. Here's the original story. Asiya's version (given below) follows from there.
She was drifting in the super market again. Organic food, fruits, coffee beans, wine -- she kept adding to her stock at home simply coz she just loved shopping. Suddenly he was there in front of her, looking squarely at her bright maroon face. She tried to turn away but it was too late. He then asked awkwardly, "are you taking the bus?"
She journeyed through the last few months of near-encounters at 'the' bus before reflecting on the stupidity of the question. She decided to add her two bits and spluttered what she had wanted to ask forever now: "Are you grecoroman?"
He lurched backwards and steadied himself with a hand on a heavy bottle of malt whiskey. She sighed, the crisp white toga that framed his perfectly chiselled body was safe.
"Yes," he answered, grinning uncertainly. "Glad you noted. So, are you taking the bus?"
She smiled and nodded. She mentally cancelled her plan to take the subway to travel across the city and have beer with a friend. Instead of that boring plan, she will now take the bus, reach home at 630 and spend her Friday evening in happy solitude. Cool.
They met at the counter in five minutes. She allowed him to get ahead in the line and stood facing his back, deep in thought. Their journey towards the bus stop and in the vehicle was marked by sparse but not uneasy chat. The air was tinged with mild amusement and pleasure. She then remarked that his stop was nearing. He stammered a goodbye and moved towards the door.
Within 10 minutes she had reached her destination. She sighed but did not move. The bus lazily pulled out.
2 comments:
and to think that i assumed Minerva's story was the wierdest anti-climax ill ever read in my whole life....
@ab: with ur encouragement we will strive for higher levels of weirdness :P
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