once or twice

It was an underused bus stop in one of the seedier areas of town, and there was a man waiting there for the bus, unlit cigarette in his hands. I nodded as I walked up, and he said, "You got a light?" I handed him my lighter. He handed it back and I lit up myself. "Is the bus almost here?" he said.

"I certainly hope so," I said.

More silence. I sat on the curb, smoking, watching traffic go by, feeling lost. After a moment, he said, "You ever been in love?"

It had been bothering him all night, I was sure. I thought of my old relationships, all of them ending in flames, usually my fault--thought of how much pain I'd caused, how much damage I did when all I wanted was to make things right. I smiled wistfully and said, "Once or twice."

"What's it like?" he said. He told me his story, or at least he told his story. I was probably not necessary to the equation. It had just ended for him and he was so sure that he had found the one. He would do anything to get her back.

I shook my head and said, "I know how that is." I finished my cigarette and looked up the road. "There's the bus."