Only the Lonely

Despondent, Tim rode the bus alone. All around him were people living their lives. Old people shopping. Young people going out. Lovers…

Of all the women in the world, why had Tim fallen for Nancy Beardy? Yes, she was beautiful, witty, clever... okay fine. Tim knew why he had fallen for her. She was practically perfect. No in every way. Not in the way that would have her want him back.

His heart ached the way that only the lonely could understand. He would arrive home, head to his room, and feel the emptiness of his life. His family, both parents, his sister, all loved him and supported him, but it wasn't what he wanted, what he needed. What Tim wanted was Nancy.

No, that wasn't entirely true. If Tim were honest with himself he would admit to himself was that it wasn't specifically Nancy that he wanted, especially now that she had broken his heart. What Tim wanted was to love someone. He wanted a beautiful woman in his life, not adjacent to his life, someone that could be the object of his affections.

But he was young. Tim was years away from being self-aware enough to understand the difference. To his conscious mind, it was all about Nancy. Perhaps with therapy, perhaps with a bit of growing up, Tim would grow into deeper understanding.

Or perhaps not.

The bus stopped and a couple climbed on. Both of them were amazing to look at. The man, probably in his mid-twenties, was tall, broad shouldered, and carried himself with a rugged confidence that reflected his attractiveness.

But the woman...

Tim had to blink to check that he was seeing her right, as she looked like she had climbed off of a magazine cover. Tall, maybe five foot eleven, long red hair, cute button nose, big bee-stung lips, and breasts... oh those breasts...

She dressed like she knew what she looked like and wanted to celebrate it. Her shorts were denim, giving a journey of a view of the smooth, tanned legs that carried her around. Her feet were strapped into high-heeled sandals, toes painted a light pink hue. But her blouse. Wowee that blouse.

Plunging was the word that Tim would use to describe the neckline of the grey top. Her large breasts, barely concealed, were teased mercilessly by the ambitious cut of her top, which reached almost all the way to her belly button. It was the kind of cleavage a man could climb into and get lost forever.

Jealously flared up in him as he watched the two hold hands, laugh, and share tender kisses. They were obviously in love, something that had been denied to Tim. That was what he wanted. That woman! Why couldn't he have that? He wished...

"...from today on, you will get what you want, but you will give to get, fair trades..." the old woman from the market's voice floated through the air, landing in Tim's ears. What was that?

Then everything went dark.