Some of Tuesday’s unconnected moments:
A woman, riding her bicycle and standing up on the pedals, was smiling and crying, too.
Only one wing, still attached to the body, of a monarch butterfly rested on the sidewalk. Uncrushed, it seemed fresh and recently alive. Where was the other wing?
There were figure skates on the floor in someone’s office.
The girl on the bus, waiting at the front for her stop, asked the very boyish bus driver if this was his regular route. I could tell they liked each other. After she got off, he looked at her out the closed door. She walked away from the bus for a few feet and then looked back.
Afternoon coffee was delicious, and I remembered to drink it while it was still hot.
leaf stitch word 
Oh, I’m rooting for the girl on the bus and the bus driver! How sad that we never know how these stories end…though I guess it leaves us free to construct whatever ending pleases us.
Me, too, Rosemary.
I doubt — but who knows? — I’ll find out how this story ends, because I was on an 8pm bus, which is uncharacteristic of me. Just a fluke.
I do like spinning out their story, though, and imagining a long courtship over many bus rides, or at least a long and mutually pleasing flirtation.