Last week, while I was standing at a bus stop waiting for my bus, I noticed a man walking a little ahead of me. His clothes were not fashionable, just a simple shirt and pants. His hair was neatly combed, and the smell of hair oil reached my nose. It was a little annoying to me, but for him, it probably felt pleasant. In his hand, he held a red rose, maybe plucked from a park or a roadside rose plant.
Overall, nothing about him looked luxurious at all. Yet somehow, in my eyes, he looked very expensive. His shoes were dirty. The dust on them screamed that he had come from very far, just to see someone or meet someone.
After a few minutes, a girl came out of a building. It was a coaching center where they prepare students for government exams. I know this because I pass by there every day.
As soon as he saw the girl, he quickly moved the rose behind his back, almost hiding it from her. A wide smile appeared on his face. His eyes suddenly started shining. Maybe he was lost in the beauty of his love.
She smiled too. When she came closer, he became shy and awkward for a moment. It seemed like he had been waiting for this moment for an entire week, thinking about how to act in front of her and what to say. But now he had nothing to say. He was simply trying to calm his excitement and control his smile. He did not want her to know how happy he was just by meeting her.
I stared at them for a long time. They talked, giggled, and chatted about random things. My eyes stayed on the red rose in his hand, wondering when he would gather the courage to give it to her.
He listened while she talked.
The rose in his hand looked incomplete.
Then the bus horn sounded. She glanced toward the road to see the bus. It was time for her to go home. It was the same bus I was waiting for. As the bus arrived, at that exact moment, the boy stepped forward and held out the rose.
She turned her head to say goodbye, but the rose made her stop. She blushed, shocked. She had not expected that he brought a flower for her.
Their eyes met.
Without saying anything, she took the rose and got on the bus. I ran too. It was my bus, my way back home.
The man stood there, smiling. He was happy because they met, and a little sad because she was leaving.
I sat behind the girl. She kept staring outside at the boy standing alone. Their eyes stayed locked, saying everything without a single word.
Eyes really do speak.
She kept blushing while looking at the rose. And I was smiling, watching her expression, thinking how sweet love is.
Men are so simple. They want to do little things to make someone feel special, but often they do not, because of shyness and fear.
