https://Voice.club - Alfred looked down at the bus stop bench. “Betsy, do you remember the first time we met? It was at this very bus stop. Lass, you took my breath away with your auburn hair rippled through with golds. Giddily, I fell head over heels in love. You wore a homemade cardigan of a rusty hue that contrasted deeply with your startling green eyes.
Everything was so perfect about you. Even your sensible brown shoes. Happily, we were the only ones at the bus stop, because it took all my courage to introduce myself. It was a good thing that the bus was late, because it required another ten minutes of fumbling for the right words.
Talking about the weather, the wonderful view from the bus stop, and a dozen other silly subjects, I felt like a real plonker. Finally, I blurted out in a croaky voice an invitation to a dance. I very nearly fell into the hedge when you agreed to be my date. How my mates teased me when I returned to work all starry-eyed and boasting that you had demurely kissed my cheek. Every time you kissed my cheek over the years, your lips polished my skin.
Betsy, we were made for each other. We both wanted a winter wedding. We agreed to buy the sweetest cottage with trailing roses and a view of this very country bus stop. We doted on our child. Shame we could only have one. Spoilt she was! I know it was my fault for never denying her anything from a ten-speed bike to a handsome wedding. Never mind that she cleared off across the pond, and we seldom see her or the grandchildren. We have each other.”
A passerby to her companion, “There is Alfred waiting at the bus stop. The service stopped two years ago after the beautiful countryside was spoilt by an ugly solar farm. The poor man was never quite right after his wife died. His home help will come and get him shortly. Village gossip says he met his wife at this very bus stop. Poor dear…”