Erosion of Loneliness

Riding the same bus at the same time, I see the same people,
at least most days. The tiny frail white-haired lady usually
sits facing me, on the other 3-person seat, but today
she smiles brightly and carefully sits across both of the two
remaining seats on my bench. Odd, I think, while reading my book.
A few minutes later, a gentleman slowly climbs on board
with his cane, asking courteously, “May I squeeze in here?”
She scoots a couple inches over, closer to me, leaving
a generous gap between us, then smiles and replies, “Of course!
Squeeze away. After all, none of us get enough of that, eh?”
I can hear the blush in her voice. “No, none of us do, do we?”
he replies, smiling. She smiles back. I can’t see it, but I know
anyway. Their shy conversation floats past, filled with awkward
hopeful gaps. I smile, too, studiously reading my thin book.