Despite it still being morning, the day has been long. She sits on the bus, staring out the window. The colours rush by, and she doesn't bother to make sense of them, turn them into shop fronts or flora. Her stomach growls persistently for breakfast, or brunch, or lunch - anything involving food. Her mouth stretches into a wide yawn.
It is then that the man barely noticed - standing by the bus door - leans in towards her.
"Excuse me," he slurs, looking her straight in the eye. "Are you a Catholic?"
Mid-yawn, she shakes her head. He does the same as the bus stops and he steps off. As he departs, the girl's eyes widen before crinkling into a smile. Weird people live in Adelaide.
I kid you not, these are defining moments in my life. There are so many questions raised. Why me? There was another woman sitting next to me, but he looked only into my eyes, waited only for my answer, before shuffling off disappointed. Yes, on the second occasion, he went to find someone else, but the question remains - why me? Is this some obscure message I should convert to Catholicism? Do I remind him of a kindly Catholic girl he once knew? Is he a serial killer with a rather direct method for picking victims? I just don't know.
I'm so tempted to write the story from his perspective.
I wuz just goin' 'ome n' I saw 'er again, big n' buxom like a juggernaut. I 'ad to make sure she wuz sure she weren't the one for me. "Excuse me," I said, clear as day. "Are you a Catholic?"