A Lack of Symmetry

On the bus I was asked to move by a family with an infant who had been stupid enough to reserve seats. Nobody needs to reserve seats on a 9 am Greyhound on a weekday. I moved and sat next to a fifty-something blonde woman who was beautiful. I reserve that word for strange women only when they have symmetrical faces; it means too much to hand out willy nilly. Symmetry is astounding to me. It’s a true natural phenomenon.

I do not have a symmetrical face but I can take a picture that makes you think I do.

What I lack in symmetry I make up for in enthusiasm and a willingness to keep trying.

I liked this beautiful woman because she played with me. I love it when people know how to play.

“Apparently some seats are reserved,” I laughed.
“I thought everyone just sat where they wanted,” she replied, incredulous at the predicament I had found myself in, that instant need to decide next to whom I’d spend the next four and a half hours of my life.

“That’s what I thought, too. That’s how I ended up here.”

I recognized a spark there. I guess it’s the spark people who are not families with infants returning from a long weekend have when they’re on a bus to New York at 9 am on a Monday morning.

Who ends up on a Greyhound to New York at 9 am on a Monday morning? People without normal day jobs and divorcees with symmetrical faces, I thought.

I couldn’t choose the latter. So I made the choice I could, took my laptop out of its sleeve, and typed well into the Bronx.

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