Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
A line of tour buses waited outside the leather goods store. As tourists wandered in to admire coats and boots despite the 100 degree heat, their drivers scattered out–smoking, standing in the shade, chatting with their hands behind their backs, pacing in small a circles. In the middle of the line, a bus had the luggage area wide open on both sides. There were no suitcases below, so with the doors ajar a breeze rushed the hollow space. It created a convenient location to make a bed. The driver slept on his side, turned toward the road, with his palms together and tucked under his head, like a caricature of a sleeping child. His wife sat up on the other side, away from the dust of the road, but she wasn’t yet ready to rest.
She peered at him from over his shoulder. He was red-faced with an expansive belly, and her locked gaze displayed only tenderness. She reached out and hesitated. Her hand moved to smooth what was swept up by the wind of a passing car, but she paused and watched him breathe. Eventually, she surrendered to touching him on the shoulder lightly before leaning back. She arranged a pillow or two, propping herself up to watch the rise and fall of his ribs, already pleased to find herself in the middle of a nice dream.