At the Bus Stop

Tressa saw Selwyn coming towards the bus stop and moved her bag before she knew why.

There was nobody beside her. The bag occupied half the bench; she was moving it to make room. That was one true account of the gesture. The other was that she had thought, absurdly, of concealing something, as if her son could read an appointment from a canvas shopping bag.

“Mum.”

“Hello.”

He stopped in front of her with a folded coat over his arm. It was Tuesday afternoon, too late for lunch and too early for supper. He had a shopping bag of his own, from a hardware shop, and looked surprised rather than displeased.

“Are you going home?” he asked.

“In a little while. I’m waiting for Elian.”

There was the change. A slight tightening at his mouth, a glance down the road which he stopped before it became a search.

“Right.”…