She lay there. Awake. Trying to sleep. She couldn't get him out of her head. He wasn't her type, not at all. He was far too skinny for her liking. She had basically known him forever. Not like, really known him. But she knew his name, what he looked like, and she would come across him every couple of years. Each time she saw him, her heart would stop. A feeling would overwhelm her, she wanted to be close to him. She felt like something had taken over her body, like something deep inside of her was pulling her towards him.
She had to get him out of her head, there was no possible future for the two of them. Even if they were from the same town, the same school, they were from different cultures. Neither of their families would ever accept it, especially his. The first time she reacted to him in such a strong way was at a conference. If she was being honest, she subconsciously wanted to go because she guessed that he would be there. It was the sort of thing people of "his" culture would go to. She passed him through the foyer, didn't say a word, only made brief eye contact. She felt her chest tighten, her head throbbing in pain. Her body wanted to run back and surrender herself to him. She wanted to slap herself. She kept reciting in her head all of his unattractive attributes: his frame, his face, his acne, his lack of muscle... The list went on. Yet still, she found herself slowly and subtly following him around for the rest of the day. She felt in a daze. That was the first time he did this to her, and with only one glance.
Now they were older. She was 19, and him 23. She wasn't a teenager anymore, she had no excuse. He was now very successful in his family business. This career-mindedness attracted her to him even more. His face was always expressionless, he wore the same black dress pants and starched white button-up shirt every day. His glasses which brimmed his dark brown eyes giving off an even further appearance of vague emotionless emptiness. But she knew there must be more to them. He was hiding something inside of him, and she wanted to be that person to see it, and to unleash it. If only she could get him to point of ecstasy. That would be the final achievement she could make of letting whatever was inside of him, out.
And here they were again, at a conference. Only this time, it was a week-long conference, in which the attendees stayed in cabins on-site, overnight. He was there. On the same property. She felt around at the walls, she needed to feel something. She was itchy to move, and to feel. Whenever she got this way she would usually go on a walk. She recalled seeing an old abandoned school bus before, on the way to the dining hall. She pondered it's long forgotten contents. Finally, she got up. She put on her robe and her slippers, before venturing off into the chilly night.
She made her way slowly, enjoying her surroundings. Somehow the darkness comforted her. The cold air helped to quiet her mind. Oh, how she longed to run her fingers through his dark, nearly black hair. She needed to be physically at one with him. Her utmost desire was to be ravaged by him. Sighing, she remember the unlikelihood of this ever happening. Finally, the bus was in sight, something to take her mind off of him. It creaked, as she climbed up into the back. All of the seats had been torn out, it was just a bare, hard, cold, metal floor. She lay down, listening to the sounds of the night. She heard the owls hooting, the crickets chirping, the woodpeckers pecking. This consoled her, and calmed her mind. She meditated at the soothing noises, the repetition relieving her. Then, another sound entered into the chorus. It was a ruffling sound, of twigs breaking. Was it footsteps? Surely not, at this time of night. And if it was, how would she explain her robe enclosed, slipper wearing self, laying on the bottom of an abandoned school bus at night?
