Wednesday, June 15, 2005

Bus Stop

Today at the bus stop, a boy and a girl, about 15, stand mirroring one another. Hardly talking, just holding one another’s gaze. They’re definitely having sex; the best kind that you can only have with your first. When you can’t think about anything else, when you know that you can’t get pregnant or Aids and who cares when it hurts? You just can’t stop. It’s all there is.

Her hair is scraped up into a high ponytail, crispy with hairspray and gel. She wears no make up apart from a solid blue crescent across each eyelid. His bed head hair is curly and messy. Her firm strokes flatten it with the efficient, clumsy tenderness of a teenage mum. They are the only two people in the world.

A few feet away, supermarket bouquets of flowers are awkwardly taped to a lamppost. On Saturday some kids beat a guy to death as he got off the number 26. It was his 25th birthday. Of the three kids charged, only one was over 16… well, he was just 16.


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