A mobile stolen moment

She stood at the traffic lights. A podcast babbling in her ears, which she was half listening to. She gazed absent mindedly around at the surrounding chaos of rush hour commuter traffic on a Friday night.
She glanced up at the lights, still red, these lights always seemed to take an age to change.
As her eyes drifted down they locked. Locked with him, stood directly across from her. There was a sizzle, not a spark, just a sizzle but there was something. She felt the corners of her mouth curve upwards, as did his. An elbow nudged into her waist, highlighting that the lights had changed. The throng of commuters pressed forwards and she rode the commuter wave across the road. She looked back up but he was gone. As she walked back to the station a thought lingered. A lost opportunity, a moment that had it been in a different setting may have led to a hello, a conversation and who knows . . . The moment was gone and she pushed forward through the Friday night drizzle as her mind drifted back to dinner plans.

3 days later she left the office late, power walking down Kingsway she was conscious that the rest of the evening was going to unfurl unless she made it to the station swiftly.
Annoyingly she was halted at the traffic lights, she sighed. This was not helpful. She toyed with dashing across the road regardless but imagined herself tangled in a bike wheel, or worse still splattered across the front of a number 171 bus.
She glanced up at the lights, glanced sideways and there he was, those eyes! She had forgotten all about them, hadn't given him further thought but here he stood, beaming back with eyes crinkled into a broad smile. Their eyes locked together, so much so that she didn't realise the lights had changed. She was oblivious to the shove of individuals around her. Suddenly he was next to her! "Hi"

3 hours later, drinks with a friend abandoned they were still talking in a pub, spitting difference from the Kingsway cross roads.

3 days later they talked about holiday plans for the summer.

3 months later they sat on the carpet, holding a glass of fizz surrounded by boxes.

3 years and they were speeding down the dual carriageway at 3am to the hospital.

30 years later they sat on a bench, hands entwined as they watched their granddaughter, toddle unsteadily along the beach collecting shells in a bucket.

Rewind 33 years, 3 months, 3 days and 3 hours. She stands at the traffic lights. A pod cast babbling in her ears, which she was half listening to, staring intensely at her phone as around her the chaos of the rush hour commuter traffic moved past her. Never knowing that the future her phone had stolen from her could have been life changing.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Nigel McGuinness says:

    Really liked this. Nice deviation from rhyme. Reckon you could expand it to a solid short story.

    Like

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