Into thin air

Samuel kept out an eye for Nancy the following weeks. The first day he got on the bus after work, he felt dead certain she'd be there just like the first two times, smiling that teasing smile. Waiting for him even, maybe.

But nothing.

Before she left, he'd learned the reason she hadn't been on her phone on the bus: her mother had taken it when she found out Nancy was pregnant. So he'd given her his number, and she'd promised to call. For days, he'd picked up before the second ring, probably talked to every fucking telemarketer in the city—twice.

Days turned to weeks and there wasn't a sign of her, not a peep.

Had he done something wrong? She hadn't seemed upset when they parted last time, quite the opposite. She had taken advantage of every opportunity to touch his arm or beg a kiss—which he'd been happy to provide.

He occasionally pondered paying a visit to her house—and dismissed it every time. What if her mother was home? What if a neighbor noticed the strange black man lurking around the house? That first time had been risky enough, he wasn't going to push his luck. He liked the girl, sure—but not enough to risk going to prison or getting beat up by an nosy neighbor. No, if they were going to have sex again—or even just meet up—then it was up to her to make the first move.

Months passed and he put her out of his mind. Life went on. He got a promotion at work and one rainy evening he ran his finances. He was better off than he'd thought. The daily bus rides bothered him more and more and he began to seriously considering that move to the countryside. And old farm, maybe, with most of the land sold off. His circumspect questions about full-remote work were dashed with finality by his new boss' curt statement: "no way, no how!" On a whim, he handed in his notice on the spot and began interviewing.