Leaving

The bus was stuck in traffic, rain hammering the roof. George with Pauline, they were soaked from the dash to the stop.

—Fuckin’ weather, he said

—Yeah, she replied. 

He looked at her. She had a new haircut, Gorgeous.

—Still leavin’ me? 

—Yeah, Friday.

—Friday, he repeated.

The bus lurched forward an inch and stopped. 

—I’ll miss ya, he said.

Pauline turned. Her eyes were red but dry.

—I know, I’ll miss ya too. But I have to go.

Back to silence. George nudged her.

—Will ya write?

She chuckled.

—Course I will, ya muppet.

The bus moved. They didn’t.