Call and Response: Viewpoints in 100 Words (#15)

I looked at Lizette. Her head was on the small pillow raised against the window; irregular lines of hair rested on her neck. The bus was behind schedule, and I wondered if Lizette was sleeping or just watching headlights breaking through falling snow. "Lizette," I said. "Liz." She didn't move. I touched her hair, and it was as soft as any snow. I was reading Stranger in a Strange Land, trying to decide if it was good literature. I once told Liz that I'd always felt like a stranger, but she would have none of it. "We're all strangers, Rick."

-----

The bus was nearly empty. We had the two seats behind the driver. Rick had wanted to fly, but I'd said there'd be romance in a long bus ride. I knew we'd grown apart, and I thought the ride might rekindle something. It's an old story--young lovers fall heavily for each other, then one of them perceives a change. Maybe I was prolonging things, though, and maybe he knew it. When he touched my hair near Omaha, his finger brushed my neck. I couldn't tell him how it felt--we had to reach South Bend for that to happen.