Aiming
You just get on the bus and her eyes are aiming at you or so, smiling like she recognizes your face or knows a secret of yours.
You walk towards the back of the bus. She is sitting at the very end, so any of your actions is evident to her, you think. You do not get the memory you are right now needing: who she is. You suppose you know her, since she looks constantly at you with a familiar gaze. High eyebrow, you notice. She looks straight to you. In the eye. Staring at you.
To avoid feeling that weird you have chosen just any seat available. You needed time to think. To look up thouroughly in your internal face-recognition memories. Quickly. You want it to be done quickly but the strange feeling of her smiling eyes pointing, glance-stabbing at your nape, is both discouraging and a bit creepy this high. Your files must be incomplete, your search engine obsolete or something, the point is you cannot remember. There is a name for that -a functional area of your memory adds- which by the way is presque vú, the opposite of a dejà vú. It is kind of funny, right? It definitely is a bit ridiculous that you are able to remember deep or highly academic information, but not this simple girl's face. You will have noticed, after discreetly looking through the window and casually reaching her with your sight, she is still looking and you. And smiling in a now really puzzling way. You think she looks at you like trying not to. It is all too strange, and you find it even stranger. She is not in your memories but smiles at you... looks at you without ceasing. You now wonder if it all could anyhow get weirder. You know you must get off in a short while but she is back there with that face and those eyes you cannot bear.
Two, three minutes have gone by without any incidents in your innermost. This calm feels totally unknown. However you do not ignore it is just the feeling, your situation is still the same. The moment comes and you are on your feet before you notice. You are holding the cold metal bar next to the door, waiting for the stop so you get off. She speaks to you, but seems to keep looking at your previous position there back on the seat, which is just her strange way of looking at, or what you now internally call "a classic" in your thoughts.
"Excuse me... Are we at the supermarket on 29th?"
"Yeah, I think we are." You answer bitterly, trying again not to look at her face directly. Anyway you admit you would like a closer look...
"Thank you sir." She says as pulls out a pair of sunglasses and a straw hat from her handbag. You see her get off the bus and take her usual place next to the entrance of the mart, where, you know, she has always been, selling cookies, smiling and wishing a nice day to just every passerby.
The bus roars and leaves you wondering why you had not recognized the same girl you have seen ever since. The girl you have even felt pity for on rainy days. Now you just see her go, making her way with her yellow cane, straw hat and sunglasses on.
"I feel like having a few cookies" you think aloud. You probably know only you could have heard your claim.
You walk towards the back of the bus. She is sitting at the very end, so any of your actions is evident to her, you think. You do not get the memory you are right now needing: who she is. You suppose you know her, since she looks constantly at you with a familiar gaze. High eyebrow, you notice. She looks straight to you. In the eye. Staring at you.
To avoid feeling that weird you have chosen just any seat available. You needed time to think. To look up thouroughly in your internal face-recognition memories. Quickly. You want it to be done quickly but the strange feeling of her smiling eyes pointing, glance-stabbing at your nape, is both discouraging and a bit creepy this high. Your files must be incomplete, your search engine obsolete or something, the point is you cannot remember. There is a name for that -a functional area of your memory adds- which by the way is presque vú, the opposite of a dejà vú. It is kind of funny, right? It definitely is a bit ridiculous that you are able to remember deep or highly academic information, but not this simple girl's face. You will have noticed, after discreetly looking through the window and casually reaching her with your sight, she is still looking and you. And smiling in a now really puzzling way. You think she looks at you like trying not to. It is all too strange, and you find it even stranger. She is not in your memories but smiles at you... looks at you without ceasing. You now wonder if it all could anyhow get weirder. You know you must get off in a short while but she is back there with that face and those eyes you cannot bear.
Two, three minutes have gone by without any incidents in your innermost. This calm feels totally unknown. However you do not ignore it is just the feeling, your situation is still the same. The moment comes and you are on your feet before you notice. You are holding the cold metal bar next to the door, waiting for the stop so you get off. She speaks to you, but seems to keep looking at your previous position there back on the seat, which is just her strange way of looking at, or what you now internally call "a classic" in your thoughts.
"Excuse me... Are we at the supermarket on 29th?"
"Yeah, I think we are." You answer bitterly, trying again not to look at her face directly. Anyway you admit you would like a closer look...
"Thank you sir." She says as pulls out a pair of sunglasses and a straw hat from her handbag. You see her get off the bus and take her usual place next to the entrance of the mart, where, you know, she has always been, selling cookies, smiling and wishing a nice day to just every passerby.
The bus roars and leaves you wondering why you had not recognized the same girl you have seen ever since. The girl you have even felt pity for on rainy days. Now you just see her go, making her way with her yellow cane, straw hat and sunglasses on.
"I feel like having a few cookies" you think aloud. You probably know only you could have heard your claim.
Starting to walk, "Who knows" is the very last phrase you throw, away in the immensity of the morning. Now, you do not know for sure, but you cannot help feeling you probably are aiming at something.
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