I walked unhurriedly to the bus stop. The rain didn't merit full speed. Sunlight reflected the tall mirrored city buildings, alluding to a crisp warmth.
As i crossed the street, i found a shy pale-blue balloon hovering solitarily on the corner. I followed its leash to its captivator and discovered this character to be odder still than his choice of pet.
He was a young, dirty-looking man, with an untidy black beard and a chaotic haircut he must have given himself. His clothes suggested the bench he sat on might be his permanent home yet his pale skin pointed to a notable distaste for the outside.
Yellow corduroy trousers, torn along the zipper, exposed his checkered boxers to passers-by. Even at a distance, his jade velvet blazer smelled of moth balls and soup. He looked rather content, sitting there waiting, blinking at the sun.
I suppose he noticed me then, for he pulled the balloon down to his level and set it on his lap, hiding the tear. I thought i saw a flicker of embarassment in his eyes, or at the very least a mischievous glint, but it lasted so little i couldn't be sure i had seen it at all.
The bus arrived at the stop and he made no motion to rise. I stepped off the pavement, unable to resist looking back before going to search for a seat. He stood up, winked and lifted an invisble hat off his head with victorian grace.
The door closed between us, and as the bus rode off he turned and went on his way - that sad blue balloon tottering along lazily beside him.
