Man at the stop

He never speaks, never even moves from his spot on the bench at the bus stop.

Every time i try to read out the name of the busstop scribbled overhead, i find it impossible. The letters get all jumbled and makes no sense.

He sits on the bench legs crossed, his flaming red hair matching his eyes.

I stand on the other side of the road, looking on bewitched by this inhumanly beautiful face.

I look up at the traffic lights which is always stopped at green, even though there are never any cars, i begin to feel agitated, scared.

Then his expression changes.

His serene facade becomes angry, threatening. I take a step back in alarm and it all fades into a big sea of nothing.

My alarm clock always rings at that exact moment.

I roll on the bed, unwilling to open my eyes but the sun rays streaming in through the window meant i had to get up even if i didn't want to.

Ive been having the dream constantly for the past two months.

Always the same one, nothing ever changes, like someone is continuously rewinding a movie to that exact point.

i get up from the bed reluctantly and walk to the bathroom, i get into the shower and let the extremely cold water run, causing me to shiver.

I dry my body and wear a faded jeans and shirt. I take a bunch of pills and swallow them with orange juice straight from the bottlle.

My life consists of me going through the motions without ever registering anything.

I can walk down a crowded street and not notice anyone, i eat without tasting the food, hold conversations without knowing what about.

My mom comes out of my bedroom now carrying a basket.

"Hello, good morning" i say to her smiling.

She likes it when i initiate conversations and open up to her and others.

"Can i help you with that?" I ask but she just hangs her head low and walks past me, not responding.

"You should smile wider?" They begin to whisper from the walls

"She hates the way you sound"

"Smile, smile...smile"

So i smile and i smile until i'm sure that when she comes back and sees me, she'll respond to me.

The door opens and closes, footsteps approach. She stops and stares at me, Her mouth moves but no words come out.

I stare back.

I see him sitting at the busstop, handsome as fuck, legs crossed, face hardened, fingers clapsed across knees. He turns to look at me angrily, i step back in fear and the bee like buzz of my alarm clock pulls me out.

I have smashed the clock with a hammer, thrown it out the window, drowned it but it still always rings without fail the next morning.

The sun streams into the room through the window. i get up like a zombie, shower with ice cold water, wear my faded jeans and shirt, take a bunch of pills with orange juice straight from the bottle.

"Why cold water" the voices from the walls ask as they have done a million times.

"There's hot water and warm water, so why does it have to be so cold?"

"Cold is good" i reply like a broken cassette.

"Because my life is cold, because the world is cold and because every thing good is cold".

I take my sit by the window, there's a heavy curtain drawn over it.

I open the novel i had picked up-i have no idea when i picked it up- and begin to read.

The curtain keeps out everything i dislike. The grotesque garden just below and the impolite sun that stills finds a way to sneak in every morning.

A knock on the door.

I turn the handle and pull back carefully, the door sways like it might fall off its hinges, i open it.

The hallway is covered in paint of different colours, an eyesour, i shut the door.

"The hallway looks so much better now, doesn't it? Compared to how dull and lifeless it used to be"

I turn back and see Kevin, my next door neighbour perched awkwardly on the armchair, like a badly molded sculpture.

The uneven line of his mouth mismatching his extremely broad nose and small eyes that seem to always know, on a wierdly flat face.

He is eating an apple.

Did he come in when i opened the door earlier?

"Its pure art" he goes on.

"There's nothing artistic about that, it's offensive and should be removed.

Whose idea was it anyways to annoy the residents to death with such insanity" i counter him.

He stops chewing and suddenly stands up from the chair frowning.

He moves close to me and begins to caress my face.

He touches my the side of my chin, my nose and then pries my mouth open.

"What are you doing?" I query.

"Shhh" he says " i'm searching"

I hear voices whispering, feet hurrying.

"It would be safer to put her to sleep" one says

"Hold her, no..not that" another voice.

I look around me, Kevin has moved his extremely large body to the window.

"Would you like to see some flowers?" He asks pulling back the curtains

"No...please no, they hurt my eyes..don't pull that back, no..no...no..."

It is different today. The man on the bench at the busstop doesn't have his legs crossed, his perfect red hair is gelled back like hell fire.

The traffic light changes to green and a big yellow bus drives past, the man turns to me and sighs.