Everything is quiet and still. Sleep deprivation had been unuseful until that moment, when it let me ignore everything else. I could have caught his attention with a paper airplane. (I had meant to give him a copy since monday, and tomorrow's the end of the working week.)

But I was content to watch. For a while. Stalker's patience tainted, I wanted him to look left, but when he did, my mad grin betrayed the calmness. I'm losing my touch.* If he did see me, he looked a bit shocked and never looked back. I was secretly singing Gentle. It's been two albums since. And so I watched until after the buses pulled out. And watched again as we (528) passed them (794).

Headphones, as usual. The little girl in front passes one to the boy and they laugh. They are friends with the boy sitting beside me, but he is silent today, covering his mouth with a loose fist. Pensive, perhaps. Thankful, definitely, after the first stop, when he moves to his own double. His headphone-receiving friend plays with him, tries to make him happy.

The last verse starts at my stop. I sing to the empty street and hope that someone hears me (him) through an open window.

Sometimes
The last thing you want comes in first
Sometimes
The first thing you want never comes
But I know
That waiting is all you can do
Sometimes

I have to sing very quietly at the end of the chorus. (Pitch and Truth.)

*Matt and Ben in HK four days ago. Only realised the day after that it was not November. And Aquashop order shipped yesterday.

Please excuse my absence. I try desperately to keep this peace.

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th since 5th october 2001