VIPPER, I had a depressing experience with someone my age, maybe 20 or so.
As I departed from the first bus on the way home he casually began talking with me about the short, gritty man almost immediately ahead.
"Every time I see that guy I miss the bus. It could be a sign." His eyes were innocent as he spoke and his face stern, but I mistook his motivation for a jab at humor and responded in jest.
"Oh, yeah? He's a fuckin' black crow, man." I waited for a spirited response which these retorts usually give. However he only continued staring, expecting more, looking up to me for some advice on the matter. A child's glare. I began to feel the great disconnect occurring within his deluded perceptions, (made worse by my careless) and also the conversation itself.
He spoke once more, laconically, leaving the weight of this problem to bear entirely upon my own shoulders. "Really?"
My heart lurched forward.
Was he high? Of course I studied his gaze, the eyeballs themselves, his demeanor. Nothing overly unusual. Hands tucked out of casual insecurity within the sweater's pocket. With reasonable certainty I supposed the condition to be one he lived with daily.
It then dawned fully that not only was he genuinely shaken by the thing, but that I had unwittingly been coerced into the role of something like a big brother figure, of someone protective in an endearing way. Sympathy quickly assumed control of all thought and action. I couldn't let him go on being disturbed or troubled by this. I had to help this person who had become so important in such a short span.
"No. It's a coincidence. They happen a lot. It's alright." Meager at best, but if I affect his senses then there will be ample room to speak.
Relief showed above the brow as tension eased. At this point we were stationary, halted by the orthogonal flow of traffic.
"So I shouldn't worry about it?"
"That's right. Don't worry." The overhead lights flashed green and I began to cross.
He said, "Okay," but I almost heard this as an exclamation, so much better was he now. With the situation at such an abrupt conclusion I met a loss for anything more. My work was done. I comforted him. We traversed the remainder of the way together, then sat at the same stop.
Shortly after he walked meaningfully across the street to the convenience store for a quick purchase before the bus arrived. It came as he returned and I was nearly in the doorway when he approached me for the second time. I turned, curious. He held a rectangular box midway between us, obviously an offering. A closer look noted them to be chocolate-dipped strawberries. But my usual apathy had overcome me by then and I thought nothing but to politely deny the present.
I can't even finish writing the rest in an appealing way. He took up a seat farther down from mine and began asking anyone he saw to share the chocolates. I'm going to go cry I'm so sad fuck fuck fuck why did I not at least eat with him