Singlehood.

“Must be nice…” I managed to muffle, smothered by the heaviness of my TS Eliot texts and Wordsworthian criticism books. I was already short of breath focusing so hard on carrying the load, but I couldn’t help but notice them. The two. They were like haunting shadows on campus. I saw them everywhere, and on days like this I wonder if they purposely made efforts to follow me. If they conjured up some stalker-like game in their twisted lovebird minds on just how much more miserable they can make me. They made my bowels loose just watching them look at each other. I’m so sick of it. Of them. The two.

So sick of me. Alone.

I boarded the bus feeling numb and hollow. In disgust, I dumped the weighty books on the velveteen seat beside me. I looked out the dirt-smeared window hoping to catch a glimpse of the clouds, but instead I saw them by the Vari Hall fountain. Snuggling. Who the heck snuggles on a 95 degree day? The two. Always the two, blocking out the sun with their butterfly kisses. I closed my eyes for the sake of my sanity and felt the bus jerk me backward as it took off.

I whispered a prayer of thanks under my breath and opened my eyes.

And that’s when I saw him...

This little Asian kid making funny faces at me. He had ring of dried red popsicle dye encircling his mouth, which cradled an extended tongue directed my way. His little arms flailing away, hitting the business man sitting beside him. Where is his mother? These kids have no manners nowadays, I swear.

I sighed, slumped lower in my seat and closed my eyes again for the rest of the journey home.

I cringed with defeat and accepted this single fact: soulmates don’t ride on the 4 o'clock bus.