I was always the hopeless romantic. The kind of person who daydreamed through high school, looked for her soulmate in college, and imagined office romances at work. I’ve met several nice men, but I couldn’t bring myself to fall in love with any of them, none were perfect. Sometimes I think I’m too picky, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

I passed by the bus stop and saw someone, a man, my age and type. He sat with a coffee next to him, not a brand coffee cup, just a normal one. He was reading a newspaper, it was weird, I’d never seen anyone my age actually read a newspaper. I kept walking. Everyday I passed by him, I never really kept a good schedule, sometimes I was late and he wasn’t there, sometimes I was early and he was just sitting down . After months of observing I realized he sat down at precisely 7:00. One time I saw him stand by the bench, looking at his watch waiting for it to turn. When it rained he had an umbrella, and when it snowed he wore boots. Once I saw him with an umbrella and looked up to see a perfectly clear sky and checked my forecast which gave a ten percent chance of rain. I returned home in pouring rain.

One day, I had to take the bus. First day in months I was going far enough not to walk. Of course, I reached the man’s bus stop. He entered, and came straight to my row, and sat next to me. He smiled sweetly at me, something rather unexpected for a man so quiet and professional. I must have reflected my distaste on my face for he tilted his head, raised his eyebrows and asked me “What is it?”. A simple sentence that could easily have been expressed in a single word- what. But I suppose he was above single word sentences. Something I should have inferred.

“Nothing, just there are open seats and some people like space,” I answered.

“I’ve sat in this same seat for the past six months, there are plenty of seats, so why did you pick mine?”

“Repetition is boring, you can use this as an excuse to sit somewhere else,” I replied, knowing the conversation should have already ended, “It’ll be an adventure,” I added, complete with a sarcastic smile.

“You repeat things plenty of times,” he said.

“What do you mean? You sit on that bench everyday at seven sharp, you read the same newspaper and have a cup of coffee next to you, and you have hardly any diversity of clothing.”

“Well you have set things as well, you do your nails every other Sunday, everyday you take the same path, as you pass by me you read the headline of my newspaper, and every time I look up at you you drop your head down and tuck your hair behind your _right _ear.”

I laugh sarcastically, “Weird how much you know about me, isn’t it?” I asked as the bus started to drive.

“Not any more than how you don’t wear a watch and still know what time I sit down,” he replied.

“Okay, fine. Your life is boring and your entertainment is me.”

“My life is _not _boring,” he looked over at me, I realized how familiar he seemed despite this being our first conversation.

“Fine, what do you have everyday that makes you show up in a suit and get on a bus stop bench every morning at seven?” I asked.

“A job,” he looked away, it was his turn to wish the conversation was over.

“Even on the weekends?”

“An important job.”

“What job?” I asked.

“I run a business,” he answered, looking back at me.

“Oh, what business?”

“A bank,” he answered dryly.

“A bank? How does that even work?”

“What? I just own a bank.”

“Weird.”

“What do _you _do?” He asked.

“I don’t have a job,” I replied.

“What do you mean?” He asked, surprised.

“I’m a freelancer,” I answered.

“What do you- freelance?” He asked, confused.

“I’m a graphic designer, usually I photoshop photos but sometimes I do advertisements and work with models.”

“So- you _do _have a job?”

“Nope, and probably never will. My resume would say ‘unemployed since that job she never showed up to in high school’. Plus I never went to college so nobody thinks I have experience.”

“But- you _do._” He didn’t talk dryly anymore, he actually seemed invested in my life. “How do you live like this? So- unorganized.”

“I don’t understand _your _life, I mean if you live a million days the same you’ve only lived one.”

“That’s true.” We were quiet for a while I just looked at him and I must have let my interest reflect on my face for he tilted his head, smiled and asked me “What?”

“I just realized we passed my stop a while ago.” I answered.

“Weird, I realized the second we passed mine.”