She was feeding pigeons on Tavistock Square. It was reflex more than anything else, and a memory of someone she used to know.
There was a man across the street, leaning against a wall and trying to make a cat’s cradle with a piece of red wool between his fingers. He was tall and red-haired, and that was a memory too.
He looked up at her and smiled a smile that was impossible not to answer. Neither of them moved, but they smiled at each other, enjoying the serendipity of chance.
The Number 30 bus rolled between them. On the lower deck, a dark skinned boy looked at him, then at her.
The seventh of July was a festival of wishes, she remembered. She wished that her brothers were happy, all of them.
AN: Crypticness, I know. If you need explanations, ask :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-01 11:59 am (UTC)She was feeding pigeons on Tavistock Square. It was reflex more than anything else, and a memory of someone she used to know.
There was a man across the street, leaning against a wall and trying to make a cat’s cradle with a piece of red wool between his fingers. He was tall and red-haired, and that was a memory too.
He looked up at her and smiled a smile that was impossible not to answer. Neither of them moved, but they smiled at each other, enjoying the serendipity of chance.
The Number 30 bus rolled between them. On the lower deck, a dark skinned boy looked at him, then at her.
The seventh of July was a festival of wishes, she remembered. She wished that her brothers were happy, all of them.
AN: Crypticness, I know. If you need explanations, ask :)