The road I was walking on was almost deserted. Save for two. A young chap stood at the buffalo end of the bridge, along with his friend. He wore an old, ragged pair of trousers and a dull shirt. His eyes were shining eagerly, while his companion scanned the road as far as his eyes could take. Mr. Chap had a brown envelope on his hand.
Presently a young lady, clad in an old, pink skirt, appeared from one of the side-lanes. She had a school-girl to escort her. Slowly, she reached the bridge, smiling and blushing and whispering to her escort. Mr. Chap is getting nervous, as his shivering hands show, and his friend is looking away.
They met. The hero was unable to speak. He smiled impishly, mumbled a word or two, and gave away his love epic. The heroine blushed even more, quickly took the brown cover, gave a parting side-glance, and hastily retreated, dragging the little girl along. The young chap's eyes shone once again, out of tears, maybe.
And then I went past him, my heart full of joy, and an unforgettable picture etched in my mind.
4 Jan. 2004