Dreamer.

*The beginning of a story-writing craze. Too many ideas in my head and I want to get rid of them. 

The world is dreaming today. And I seem to be the only one awake. 

People moved in slow motion and cars hummed away in the distance rather than revving their engines and zooming away right in front of me.

"Excuse me..."

"Excuse me..."

I turned. Hm?

A little old lady gestured to a huge oversized trolley next to her. "Can you help Auntie carry this onto the bus?"

Sure. 

The bus pulled up, silently quiet. Even the hydraulic door hinges squeaked rather than squealed and letting out a huge burst of steam. 

Dragging the trolley up, I took my customary stance against the rail, looking out of the window and the Auntie smiled her thanks. 

The bus stopped and the doors once again squeaked open. Passengers flooded in, desperate to claim their seats. I, having long given up in that department, chose to continue to stand. 

And then someone walked past and I sighed in longing. 

Definitely a woman. But which one? There were so many crowded around the rails, hanging off the dangling hand grips.

Oh, this woman. She had a perfume that made me wallow in my sorrow. Slightly sweet. But a deep, heavy scent rather than something light and spritzy. A scent that lingered in the air as she drifted by. It reminded me of rich, deep, knowing love that a couple after many years would know. Their ins and outs and ups and downs. But the sweetness hinted at youth. A warm yet cool sweetness that bubbled over and dripped to the ground. 

The buzzer buzzed. And the doors gaped.

And I stepped out into the warm, humid air.

Time for work.