Suddenly the bus swerved, narrowly missing an automobile that had cut across the intersection. I lost my precarious balance, and almost fell into the lap of the person sitting in front of me.

I felt my cheeks redden as I searched for appropriate words with which to apologize; I forgot them the instant my eyes met hers. A spark of interest seemed to fill her eyes as she stared back at me.

"I'm terribly sorry, I really wasn't trying to take your seat away from you," I laughed nervously at my weak attempt at humor.

She smiled then, a sweet dimpled smile. "That's alright. These buses are hard to cope with at times, I know."

I racked my numbed brain trying desparately to come up with something intelligent enough, but not too obvious, to continue the conversation. I felt compelled to talk to her. There was something about her that fascinated me. Her's wasn't one of those lethargic faces. She seemed glad to be alive.

"Ahhh . . . I don't believe I've seen you on this bus before. Have I?" I blurted, peering into large, innocent looking, green eyes, my heartbeat quickening.

"Well, probably not. I usually take a later bus, but I have to go to the office early this week." She answered, with a hint of surprise at my question.

For the first time in my life I would have given anything to have been one of those gifted individuals, out of whose mouth words flow like honey. Unfortunately I'm not. Conversation has always been hard for me, particularly with strangers.

A smile frozen on my face, I stood there wordlessly watching her—seeing the bright, young face so full of life and living. She removed her scarf, running slender fingers through the soft blonde curls, patting them gently into place. Then, as if feeling my intent gaze, she turned and smiled briefly, her eyes sparkling.

She moved to get up. "Excuse me. This is where I get off. Would you like to sit down here?" She motioned towards the seat.

"Yes I would. Thank you." I lowered myself into the seat and stole one last look at her. Too bad that she had to get off here, I thought disappointedly. She's one person I felt that I would like to know better. I dismissed it on a pleasant note-perhaps I'd see her again.

I gazed out the window dreamily . . . then jerked immediately to my feet. I'd almost missed my stop.

The day passed swiftly. We were frantically busy in the office and I hadn't had even a minute to myself. Not even time to think.

I climbed wearily into bed that night. It seemed there was something that I should remember, but it escaped me. Then like a flash it came back. Of course, the girl on the bus. The only bright spot in the day . . . or year for that matter. Well, maybe I'd see her tomorrow. It was something to look forward to, but not worth losing any sleep over, I decided. I had an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I turned over and fell asleep.

Next morning as I pushed aboard the crowded bus, I found myself eagerly looking forward to seeing the girl again. That is, if she was on the bus. I'd soon know. Then I saw her, sitting in the same seat. I walked back to where she was sitting and spoke to her.

"Hi, how are you today?"

one