Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
They are brothers, this is clear. The eyes, the posture, the low chuckle as they part ways. One brother boards the 16 bus. This brother wears a navy coat, a herringbone driving cap. His brother will walk. They are in their fifties, but they have the same slight movement that they must have had as children. Instead of waiting in stillness, they shuffle a bit, not fidgeting but shifting into the space around them. I saw this at the bus stop, I see it as the brother in the hat takes a seat in front of me. He sits and makes an almost imperceptible circle with his shoulders, his torso.
The walking brother wears a tan coat and no hat. They wave at each other when one brother boards, then again as the bus takes the steep road up past the path of the hatless one. At the next stop, only two minutes later, the brother leaps from his seat and departs. He exits, stands wobbling in a crowd of people planning to board and he gazes left, down the hill, waiting for someone.