I can’t remember the first time I realised something wasn’t quite right with him. The dull pressure around my eyes and unsettled stomach was too distracting for me to register anything beyond the colour of his coat and earmuffs. Yellow, and lilac. To think I first thought him a woman; if a woman, those eyeless Gorgons might be as Helen beside him.
Him? The word seems to grant too much of humanity to the wretched creature.
Thrice I passed him before I noticed that we each sat on the same empty bus. Reminiscing, it seems strange that I never saw him catch me up and pass me. At the time, I was more concerned with the task of keeping the contents of my stomach imprisoned. The liquors and lager conspired to escape their gaol.
After I had ascended to the upper deck and lowered myself into a seat, I saw the selfsame yellow and lilac shape as before. I sat just behind the stairwell, he at the front of the bus. The outer chill had steamed up the entire, and where I wiped off the condensation to better a view of outside, a fixed horizon to counter the pitches and rolls of my mutinous prisoners, I now recall that he had not. His face couldn’t be further than a foot from the dense blankness yet he appeared unfazed by the oblivion.
Now, I wish I could’ve watched him closely throughout the journey, but then all I could want for was to alight and end the journey and its assistance on the stomach~ rebellion. Recall of that journey brings with it similar feelings in my gut for I swear my ineffectual observations did not deceive me, and I pray that I could go back and watch more closely.
I alighted before he. The journey lasted the best part of a half-hour and yet… Not once did he move his head.