July 28th, nighttime
I found myself on a bus, the details of how I got there escaping me. I was accompanied by a friend as we set out for a stroll in the streets of Istanbul. Seated next to me was a guy — clad in a striking red and black hoodie, the hood shielding his head.
He gazed out the window, his arms folded; perhaps earphones or headphones, although I can't quite recollect which. He was as calm as a raven.
The darkened road glistened with moisture from an earlier rain shower, the drizzle hinting at the possibility of monsoon. A gentle breeze sent shivers down my spine as I peered out at the enchanting cityscape, the shops, and buses lending an air of wonderment to the surroundings.
Upon reaching our stop and getting down from the bus, I hurriedly glanced around and rushed after the departing vehicle. He offered assistance, though the specifics eluded me. In gratitude, I left a thank-you note in his lap.
"Hey, wait —"
I caught him gazing at me through the window. I glanced at him once more, rejoining my friend's side.
