The following short was written Friday night 02-22-13 sometime between 7:00 and 7:30 PM. It was a "half page hand written in between rounds of Magic on scrap paper" after a series of messages between myself and a friend who was sitting at a bus stop in the cold. I suggested she listen to music and dance, but that was not apparently possible under the circumstances. I needed something to do since I got trounced in the first round so I grabbed some scrap paper and made a few notes. She inadvertently gave me the initial writing prompt which is used here as the first line and later the title. What follows is more of a setting or scene as opposed to a story. As a springboard for actually writing a story I know that I would be able to take this and expand all sorts areas of this. The way it is written is the way it is typed. It would be simple to expand on the thoughts about music and passers by, the bus stop itself, the weather, television news, dancing in public, singing in public, cold, why at the bus stop, why no music, or even who the person at the stop is since it is not written first person per se. The stage has been set here, nothing else. But, it was nice to do this as a writing exercise and prompt and to have a brief moment where my friend and her situation was my muse. Then I went back to losing at cards.
"It Was Frickin Cold"
Cold bus stop.
Shielded from the icy rain, or hail, or sleet, or whatever it is called on the news.
The lack of music is the worst part.
A loud moment of a song from a passing car or pedestrian's ear buds does not count. Ever.
One can stay warm, or at least shield against too much cold or rain, but the lack of music is just sort of there.
Music to sing along to.
Music to dance to.
Even at a cold bus stop that would be enough on a dark late Winter's evening when the bus is late.