Seven thirty is the time my bus arrives, the bus station isn't that far from my house, a 3 minutes walk. As always I have my earphones plugged and soft melodies playing through making mornings more tolerable.

The bus arrives in time, I get in and head to my usual slot; third seat on the right side, next to the window. I'm surrounded by the same people who take the same bus at this particular hour everyday for the past years; two seats behind me is a woman in her mid forties in formal clothes, the seat before me on the left side is where a man in his late thirties is seated wearing a casual shirt that's tucked inside his worn out pair of jeans and the last seat on the left side is always occupied with an elderly woman who rides from the station after my house. It's always been like that no one else rides that bus and none of the passengers miss a day. It's like an unbreakable routine, sometimes it feels like we're scared to rebel against it although it's not a rule that we need to follow.

Seven forty four. The bus already stopped by the red light, I turn my music off and slightly shift in my place trying to get the best view and give all my attention to what's about to happen. I watch my clock impatiently as it slowly but surly ticks away to seven forty five. I count down the seconds; ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two.. I look up and there he is. The same stranger that I've been admiring for as long as I started riding this bus. Perfectly on time not breaking the routine.

How long will I keep watching from afar?
How long till my existence is finally known?
Will it ever though?