I was waiting for my second bus on my ride home when the young man with the Harley Davidson tattoo and the giant red Macaw sat at the next bench over. He was handsome in a bland, series romance way. I could see him on the cover of that strange new line that revolves around Nascar, only his tattoo was two wheels short.
He asked me about what I was knitting and there was something a little off, but I wasn't sure if it was just his way of talking. He mentioned the bus. Awkward silence.
"Do you know anything about cats?" He stroked the big red bird.
"A little." I said, because one has to be careful.
"Oh. I was just thinking about kittens."
Now I was certain there were mental issues.
"What time is it?" He looked back to where the bus would come from.
"I'm not sure, my phone is dead."
"Why's your phone dead?" He asked the way a kid might.
"The battery ran out."
"Oh. You forgot to plug it in last night?"
It was like talking to a eleven year old, only he was in his twenties and had a giant red bird in his lap. We did discuss the coloring of his bird at one point. And knitting bird sweaters.
He got on the bus with the bird and got off several stops later.
I wonder if I'll see him again. He won't be hard to spot.