© Bruce Goodman 15 July 2015
Every day Bridget hoped for rain even though she wasn’t a gardener or a farmer or something. She was simply a receptionist at a factory down town. Each morning she caught the bus to work. There was no shelter at the bus stop, just a sign that said “Bus Stop” on the side of the road.
At the bus stop each day was this guy – she didn’t know his name – but he was what Bridget would call “fairly hunky” and he was the only other one – usually – at the bus stop and once he said “Hi” but normally he would just nod and smile and then they’d wait a few yards apart and not say anything like they were too nervous to speak or something. And anyway, they caught different buses.
And the time he did say “Hi” Bridget was too excited to say anything and just answered “Yes”, which was a silly thing to say if someone says “Hi”.
And day after day he was there throughout the summer months, and now it was heading towards autumn and it was dark when she went down to the bus stop.
Sometimes there were two or three other people at the bus stop but they weren’t regular like Bridget and the fairly hunky guy. And it still hadn’t rained, and every day Bridget hoped for rain even though she wasn’t a gardener or a farmer or something.
She hoped for rain because the fairly hunky guy always carried an umbrella. And if the truth be known, the fairly hunky guy always carried an umbrella because he hoped for rain.