Past The Webcam

I am watching a middle-aged man. I have been watching him for some months now. Not always. Just in the moments his laptop is on and he is in the frame of his camera. His face is a nice kind of round, and on it a pair of rectangular glasses. His hair is greying: some bits of his beard are still black. Often, he lightly bites his bottom lip, shrinking his already small mouth. And every now and again, he’d leave his laptop and come back with a mug. I’d say he did this about two or three times each day before ending his night.

I am watching him. He is on the same bus as I. I can see things from here that I could not see from the screen, such as how his hair flowed in a rather flattering way that covered the bald spot at the back of his head. He is seated next to a lady, and they are speaking. I cannot hear them from back here or over the hum of the bus. I like how he looks at her when she speaks. He looks directly at her, right in her eyes, he hangs on to each word, and when she’s done speaking his eyes point at the floor for a moment, as though he’s taking it all in. When the roles are reversed, and he’s speaking, his eyes wander. They peer up at the signs above us, at the railing running overhead, at the stop buttons on the poles. He repeats certain actions; his left eye—no left for me, so his right eye—twitches. A lot. Especially focused on her speaking. He runs the back of his palm under his nostrils. He fingers the gold wedding ring on his hand.

Eventually, the lady gets off the bus. A couple stops later, he does so too. I decided to get off too. I crossed the road and followed him. He got back to his house, and I sat at the bus stop opposite it. A couple moments later, he comes out the house with two girls. His. Only one seems familiar. He watches them cycle on the lawn for a fair bit. Both tricycles are pink; one of them has tassels on the handlebars.

The bus came to the stop. It was not my bus, come to think of it, I’m not sure what bus runs from here back to my place. I shook my head at the bus driver, and he left. The bus pulled away, leaving him in sight. He looked at me. I looked back.

I smiled.