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It was late 2007. The rain had finally stopped, but the streets were still wet and glistening under the orange glow of the streetlights. I stood at the familiar bus stop, hands in my pockets, feeling the heavy humidity cling to my skin. The Love Bus pulled up, its doors opening with that familiar hiss. I boarded and instinctively walked toward the paired seats near the front, the same seats where so many important moments of my life had unfolded.
Everything felt different now. The air inside the bus carried the usual mix of evening traffic smells, but the warmth that used to fill those seats whenever Brenda was beside me was gone. I sat down alone. The empty space next to me felt louder than the engine of the bus.
The events of the previous months still weighed heavily on me. Brenda and Rich were together. They were getting more serious with each passing month. I had tried to step back, to give them space, to focus on my own life. But no matter how hard I tried, the memories kept returning, the laughter, the late-night conversations, the way her head would rest on my shoulder during those quiet rides home. Those moments felt like they belonged to another lifetime now.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and saw Brenda’s name on the screen. A simple message...
bru:
Franz, kmusta kna? Tgal n ntng ndi ng kta ah. Tra, ride tyo let samdey? Mis kna ung kwen2han ntn
I stared at the message for a long time, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to reply immediately, to tell her I missed her too. Another part wanted to protect myself from the pain that always followed these moments. Eventually, I typed back...
franz:
cge. Anytme txt ka lng. Miss q rn.
The bus continued its journey through the busy streets. I closed my eyes and let the familiar motion rock me gently. I thought about how much had changed in just a few months. Brenda was building a life with Rich. I was trying to build something new on my own. Yet here we were, still connected by these late-night rides and unspoken feelings that refused to disappear completely.
When I finally got home that night, the house felt empty. I sat on the edge of my bed, still thinking about Brenda’s message. The Love Bus had always been more than just transportation for us. It was where our friendship had deepened, where confusion had turned into something more, and where reality had eventually pulled us apart. Now it seemed to be the only place where we could still meet without the complications of the outside world.
I wondered if things would ever go back to how they were. Or if this was simply the new normal, two people who cared deeply for each other but were walking on different paths. The threads of destiny, as I would later come to think of them, were still there, tangled and stubborn, refusing to break even when we tried to move forward. → story continues tomorrow morning!
As I lay in bed that night, a quiet thought came to me… even after the strongest storms, life somehow finds a way to continue, one ride at a time. The Love Bus kept running through the night, carrying passengers with their own stories, their own pains, and their own hopes. And somewhere in the middle of it all, it was still carrying pieces of mine.
Updated June 23, 2026 from original post date December 30, 2010.
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