The Hottest Girl on the Bus.

The bus stops. Not at a bus stop, but it stops anyway. It's going against all the rules for this one.

She jogs over. Her hair never moves; the wind dares not mar her. Gliding onto the bus, everything comes to a halt. Conversations in full throttle cease instantly and hungry eyes eat up the luscious blonde.

But she doesn't know. Or rather, she chooses to be ignorant.

She dances, delicately, between her audiences' toes. They couldn't care less if she jumped up and down on them. They just stare. Lost in the unobtainable beauty laid out before them. Cursed like Phineas to never know the taste of what is laid before them.

She slips her arm around a pole. Ring, ring. She's hit the bell; clumsy little thing.

"Sorry" she whispers.

But no one minds, its an excuse to look at her again. But try as they might, they cannot stay in this moment forever. The bus rattles on. Time catches back up. Her audience dwindles. People return to previous conversations as if nothing had happened. She fades into the background, a golden silhouette.

And I wonder...

What was her name? And why is she wearing a mini-skirt in this weather?