Aphrodite

This must be one of her early morning dreams, she thought. The time when her dreams are so vivid they seem real. But she remembers dragging herself out of the bed and going through the everyday routine before running to the bus stop. Yes, thats where she was, the bus stop and this was no dream. In front of her stood a guy, the likes of someone she has only seen in her dreams till then.

She knew all the regulars. The scrawny bespectacled girl, the cartoonish asian chap, the weird hat man, the school girl and her fagging mom. She doesn't remember ever seeing him though. And she could never have missed or forgotten him. He must be new. She had a good look at him. Oh yes, the perfect height - not too tall, not too short; she put the final figure at between 5.10 & 5.11. He was lean without being overly thin. She noticed his sharp features, the light wheatish complexion, his unusual but attractive gait as he disappeared into the crowd. She spent the rest of the day thinking if he was in fact what she thought he was.

As she hurriedly got on to the crowded bus that evening, she knew the Gods were smiling on her. She could pick him out from any crowd. But from where she stood, she could only see his back. She wasn't complaining as she stood soaking in every bit of its detail. Her concentration was rudely broken as he got off at the next stop. But his stop was not supposed to be until 2 stops away?! Catching the last glance at his profile, he looks every bit she thought firmly.

Over the next few weeks, her luck Goddess seemed to be working over time for she started seeing him more frequently. Each day as she observed him more minutely she got less discreet. He was what one could call handsome. Properly handsome. He reminded her of Al Pacino in Godfather 1. Not that he resembled him, but that was another man she found handsome. She was sure that when he smiled, there would be a hint of crookedness. She hadn't seen him smile even once. But she was sure of how exactly his mouth would curl when he did. She liked this picture of his smile. She liked his hair, the right length and volume. Its color - Not very blonde nor too dark, just the right shade of golden brown. Above all, she liked the air of arrogance he had about himself. Was it the knowledge that he was bestowed with such good looks or his genuine lack of care about it that gave him the confidence, she couldn't decide.

One day, quite unexpectedly she came face to face with him. She was getting off the bus while he was getting on. She saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. Was it complimentary? She chose not to answer the question, just yet. Later that week, when she was sitting quite carelessly in a stop, not her usual one, he once again caught her unaware. He walked up to where she was seated, her face sinking down into the book she had stopped reading the second she caught sight of him. As she looked up, in what she hoped was a casual way, she found him staring at her. Too stunned to react in any other way she gazed into those surreal eyes, for the first time. It might have lasted only a few seconds, but to her it seemed like eons. She knew it was time she asked him the question. But her courage failed her again. Besides she wouldn't be able to hear a no, not after having come thus far.

Days, weeks, months went by. He would sometimes be met in their usual bus stop and other times he would take her by surprise by appearing from nowhere on the road, in the tube and once even in a pub. In some of these meetings he would glance at her, more than once, and in some others not even acknowledge her presence. It didn't bother her. The only thing that bothered her was the question and more importantly the answer!

That morning he chose the seat next to hers in the bus but she didn't look at him even once. She couldn't bear to. She needed the answer before she could proceed. Her rational mind told her time and again that the answer was not important. It did not matter if he was or not. But she knew that thats not how it worked. Her imagination had to be perfect. And the answer had to be what she was hoping it be, to attain that perfection.

How could she imagine his beautifully sculpted body being draped in the pure white toga, the pleated end of which would fall down gently from his strong broad shoulders; the jasmine tiara adding the extra charm. No she couldn't do it without knowing if he was Greecoroman or not!