Wednesday, 4 August 2010

Ms Bean (Write of Passage Number Twelve)

She's a young plain Jane, hair cut in a kind of church bob, plain tee-shirt, practical clothes, glasses perched on a snub nose. There is something atypical about the way she moves as she works her way to the back of the nearly empty bus, although I'd be hard-pressed to say just what it is. She spots a comely young man and plops down beside him, leaning enough into his space to make him squirm just a little bit. He looks out the window and studiously ignores her. A small smile plays about her lips. I've seen that smile before:

Comely young man eventually escapes. Plain Jane makes her way to another seat and leans almost imperceptibly into another young man who possesses equal powers of ignoring. Then she rises, and in that odd, not-quite-definable ungainly way, descends from the bus. She's still smiling.

Mischief managed.

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