I sit on the bus, pulling my hood further down over my face. I hate the hoods we have nowadays: rather like women’s pockets, they’re not deep enough, or are mere mockeries of what they once were.
Still, it suffices, and I cross my arms over my chest as I relax in the seat. My eyes slip closed, until I hear a muffled cough, and I glance over, spying the person standing over me.
“Um, excuse me…would it be alright if I sat there?” they question, pointing to the seat next to me. I sigh, but smile, nodding.
“Of course: I’m certainly not using it for anything,” I agree, tone affable. They sigh, nodding, and sit next to me, pulling their own hood off.
“Thanks. It’s pretty cold out, huh?” I smirk from inside my hood, but nod in agreement.
“Colder than I’m used to,” I acknowledge. This earns me a smile as they gesture at my hood.
“Is that why you’re wearing that?” I chuckle, nodding again.
“Yeah: too cold, and too bright all at the same time.” Another nod, and they leaning their elbow on their knee, staring up front contemplatively.
“I guess you might be from a desert then, huh?” they question.
“Oh? What gave it away?” A grin.
“You mean aside from you admitting it’s colder and brighter than you’re used to?” they supply, and I smirk, nodding.
“Yeah, aside from that.” They glance down at my hands, which are uncovered, and I could see why their eyes drifted there: my hands are firm, unblemished, and the color of darkened teak wood. Suddenly, they flush violently, holding up their hands in a surrendering gesture.
“Ah, no, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t trying to be like THAT, but I was….err…” They trail off lamely, and I snicker.
“Hey: no worries. You’re right: I grew up near Phoenix Arizona, near the deserts.” Not a lie: officially, it was the place I’d spent the most of my time. A slow nod of the head.
“I see. You get used to the cold,” they promise. I chuckle.
“Oh no, don’t get me wrong: the desert can be freezing at night, since sand’s not a great insulator. However, that’s at NIGHT, when pretty much everything else is hiding. Here, though, it’s the middle of the day, freezing, and we’re expected to go about our days as if nothing were wrong with that.” They laugh, patting me sympathetically on the back.
“It’s OK: you get used to it, I promise.” I sigh, nodding, and we fall quiet for a moment. After a moment, they sigh.
“Hot chocolate helps,” they volunteer. I blink, then snicker, nodding.
“I’ll bear that in mind!” I agree, finally pulling down my hood. My hair falls straight and black down my back, and my eyes remained closed.
“Oh! Are you-?!”
“Blind?” I chuckle, and their voice cracks in their uncertainty. I shake my head. “No, no: my eyes are just tired.” As if to emphasize my point, I lean against the bus, feeling the vibrations rattle my brain through the movement. There’s a reigning silence, and while it’s comfortable enough, it’s fragile. I sigh.
“So, can I ask you something random?” I mutter.
“Oh, uh, sure!”
“If you could have one wish, what would it be?” This earns me a laugh.
“A wish? Umm…” There’s more silence, but this is deep and contemplative, and I actually find myself proud of this person for stopping to think about it.
“Ummm….I guess…I’d probably just wish for something boring, like money, friends or happiness.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Mmm…probably cos I’m thinking of all the ways those wishes could back fire.” I laugh, still in my relaxed position.
“Hahaha! The genie’s out to get you?” I quip.
“No, no. And anyways, they’re technically called Djinn, or Djinni, if you’re referring to a singular one. I just…always had an interest in them. But, if you don’t word your wish right, they can turn it terrible.” I chuckle again.
“I see. And did you ever figure out a wish that wouldn’t be able to be spoiled?” They laugh now, and I can plainly hear the amusement in their voice.
“No, never. Although, I did once consider the ramifications of wishing to be able to know and see when I’m around Djinn, or other mythical being slash creatures, such as they may be.” At this, my body stiffens. Hmm…an interesting kid.
“Would that be your wish, then?” I question softly, as if falling asleep.
“Yeah, I guess. That’s what I’d wish for.” I crack open my eyes, the wine-dark red staring kindly at them.
“So be it,” I speak, and pulling back the sleeve of my coat, reveal a bangled arm, gently touching their forehead.
The effect is slow to hit: a blink, some confusion. Then, wide eyes stare at me, may hand, now pulled away, and the bangle there, and then, my eyes.
“Wha-?!” I smile, closing my eyes again.
“Don’t worry: I won’t let it hurt you, and you’ll never be sensed in turn unless you want to be. I’d advise discretion.” I smile again, holding out my hand. “My name is Suhana. Pleased to meet you.”
J.A.S Writings 