I am walking. Uphill. This girl ahead turns around, flashing her stick-out thumbs left and right before her friend. I return to my thoughts. A moment later I notice her again, walking along the curb, brushing her thumb along.
"She's not hitchhiking is she?" I'm surprised, "It's the middle of the city!" In a neighborhood known for its walkability no less. That's when I start checking her out. She's very slender, in a petite brown leather jacket, tight pencil jeans, brown leather boots. Early 20's, I suppose. She's pretty of course, with that confidence. She ties her blonde hair at the back of her head in a neat little bun. Urban and slick - and doesn't like to walk?
Her friend, not as pretty and not a believer in urban hitchhiking / self-confident spontaneity, urges, "The bus is here". Surely, the bus stop is right here. But she turns and exclaims lightly, "He stopped!", jumping a bit. I look up. A black SUV pulls up at the interaction just ahead. Now I have to suspend my belief - a real hitched ride in the middle of the freaking city, stuff of an urban legend! She runs up, excited and pleased. Her friend follows in a distance in her long dark hair and long dark gypsy skirt. Some commotion in the black SUV. A guy comes out from the driver's seat. Tall, buff, head-shaved, and kind of handsome, like one of those army guys just rotated back from abroad (saw "Hurt Locker" the day before). I foresee a scene of "hey ladies", meaningful silence, and the necessary flirting. But then the guy runs across the street, and disappears into a house.
It takes a moment for me to react to it, having suspended my belief. It takes her a second to recognize the moment too; a vague expression fills her face. Her friend looks at her and quips sarcastically (or helpfully to disarm the moment's embarrassment), "How's that working for ya?" I can't stand to watch her face. Luckily I have my music player wired to my ears (not on), and I am already walking past them. I look straight forward, faking absorption.
Now they are behind me at the intersection. As we are waiting to cross, I hear the friend says, "... almost there to the top. A few blocks at the turn and we are there." That's where I am heading too - and I am only too happy to walk in such nice weather (besides, I don't have a ride either). "Walking is good for you..." her friend adds in good faith. She murmurs a vague "Yes it is...", still cheerful. Girls always reserve some room in her heart for hope (as in stomach for dessert). And the prettier the girl, the bigger her heart tends to get. The bus zips by.
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