Sitting next to him made her nervous. It didn’t matter that they were both on opposite ends of the bus stop. He has a wild, unkempt look that made her sit at the edge of the seat, alert and aware. She couldn’t help keeping both eyes subtly on him, watching and observing his slumped form. His clothes seemed of good-quality, but were washed out and soaked in rainwater, smeared by mud and torn – because of a brawl in the rain? Or because of a fall? But it was his face that held her attention. It was etched with some strong emotion, could it be grief, fear, anger, even despair? It was impossible to single out a clear feeling. Perhaps it was a mixture of all of them, for there was agony in his eyes as he stared blankly into the rain. His jaw was clenched, and he looked from the dark sky to his empty hands as if praying for a miracle to fall into them. She shook her head slightly. Her imagination was getting away from her. Whatever that was in his eyes must be from one drink too many. In eve...
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