She took the bus home from school tonight. She said she didn’t mind. When I saw her depart, I knew why.
He lives in our neighborhood, gets off at her stop, and walks home in the opposite direction. She didn’t see me standing at the end of our drive at the top of the hill. As the bus pulled away, she talked to him for a moment, turned, and skipped in my direction. When she spotted me, her skipping morphed into a casual stroll.
By the time she reached me, her blush had faded.
But her smile was iridescent.