• I ride the bus home almost every day. A few months ago I was riding the fifteen like i usually do. A couple came onto the bus and sat accross from me. I continued to read my book so i wouldnt have to aknowledge them, when i noticed something out of the corner of my eye. The rather attractive woman-- dressed in raggedy, filthy clothes--brought a shaking hand up to her eye. I glanced up for a moment only to see her face, twisted painfully as tears streamed relentlessly and uncontrollably down her rough, ebony cheeks as she blinked in a struggle to keep them back. The man sat stiffly next to her, staring in front of himself distantly. there was a buildup of tears in his eyes as well, threatening to spill over. His lip trembled slightly as he bit it in an attempt to keep controll over it.

    He spoke into her ear. Although i couldn't hear the words coming from his lips, i could tell they did not come easily. With every sylable, the womans face would twist more and her eyes would flood and spill over, as if each word brought a new pain into her already-twisted existence.
    They were fighting.
    Emotions leaked off of them and filled the bus with a heavy melancholy. Everyone on the vehicle seemed to stop worrying about the bustle of the day, about where they had to be, when they had to be there. Only a silent discomfort seemed to fill the hearts The couple got off at the same stop as i did; California st. they stepped off before me. I had only hit the first step down towards the bus doors before the woman walked off, without her man, leaving him standing there; an awkward heap of worthless flesh, staring helplessly after his better half as she rushed off in a sobbing mess.

    I saw nothing of them for a long time. They started to seep out of my conciseness much like the rest of the ugly in the world.


    Yesterday i was waiting for the fifteen again. when it arrived i stepped on and greeted the bus driver with a quick nod and asked for a transfer after i paid the fare and glanced quickly at all the faces on the bus as i usually do. As i moved to find a seat, i passed a recognizable face. The woman sat next to the window. Her hand was entangled with that of the man she had been fighting with only months before. They were both clean and dressed in snazzy new clothes as if their attire was as new as their lease on life. His eyes were soft and content--no-- happy on his proud face. He sat tall in the tackily patterned seat as if he were the highest man in the world, holding the most beutiful and prized woman in the world by the hand. The woman gazed dreamily out the window, a slight comfortable smile curled playfully on her lips as her cheeks glowed a healthy pink that lit up her face. Her head moved gracefully as she turned to look up at his face. His gaze moved to meet hers and they held eachother there with their loving eyes. Both of thier eyes were glazed over and hazy, yet at the same time alert and lively. thier gaze was filled with an emotion that i could never possibly describe in my life. i passed them and went to the back of the bus to sit alone as always. i looked out the window and smiled slightly to myself. The same few words played in my head: "they made it."