No story

I have no story, no tale to relate. I don’t know what to tell you yet I know what I don’t want to say. And that perhaps is enough.

First, his father dies. He remains the same yet is forever changed.

The sound of fallen leaves is blowing in ripples and waves across city. A single high pitched yet pleasing tone like orchestral strings permeates the air.

He notices her shoulders first. Broad but fine-lined beneath a green blouse. On the bus. He can’t see her face, yet he knows she is perfect. Long, strong legs, she stands waiting for the doors to open and let her off. The bus pulls away leaving her behind and giving him the opportunity to look back and see her face. He turns his head but an advert for a body product screens her off. Only her feet remain in sight. He holds his stare but the city comes between them and she is gone.

He stands at the busy intersection, the sound of leaves and strings distracting him from the shuffling, straining bodies around him. An urgent stream of cars, vans and trucks surge from left to right right in front of his face. And then it comes. A forceful weight in the back propels him forward, off the curb.

Where does all the life go?