Bus Stop, Wet Day

Sam liked the man who got her train, even if he never wore the right coat. She watched him leave the station, rain the colour of streetlights drumming against her umbrella.

He shivered at the bus stop they always waited at together, whilst never exchanging a word. He checked his pockets, faster, worry and misery washing in with the precipitation.

"Hey," he said. "You couldn't lend me a quid, could you?"

Bus time. She boarded, closing the brolly. Turned.

"No, sorry." (Though she could).

She threw the brolly; he caught it.

From the window, she saw him fall for her.