I see him on my second bus of the morning every so often. .He's always smiling, talking to a variety of different people I assume are his friends. From afar he is pleasant, but we never spoke until today.
We're outside waiting for the bus when he comments on my rain boots. "I love your shoes!" he says, right away as he sees me. "I'm used to seeing everyone head to toe in black so it's refreshing to see someone wear color. I thank him, accepting the compliment and we begin a conversation about the weather.
Small talk I suppose, but it's been record breakingly cold in Chicago until today.
We board the bus once it arrives. We are of the first people on and he asks to sit next to me.
We continue our talk about the weather and I speak about how it made my roadtrip to and from Boston disastrous. He's sparse with the details of his own life so I find it interesting on his choice of attire. Head to toe in white, always, every single time I see him. I find out he lives near me and that he was born and raised in Chicago. I can't tell his age but he looks pretty young with black wavy hair and a virtually wrinkle-less face.
We are employed a bus stop away from one another and I am grateful in part because the conversation was growing forced towards the end.
He gets off the bus and shakes my hand after asking my name.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Jess. My name is Ramon. I'll see you around."
It's a shame that the nicest people in this city are strangers, and often they stay nice until they stop being strangers.
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