Things like this do not happen

She sat down on the bench next to him. The man, who had been staring into space, turned to see if he knew her. She did the same and they held each others gaze. Too long they both looked for them not to say something.
“Hi” she said
“Hey”
She leaned in and further scrutinized him.
“Your eyes are watering” she said.
“Hay fever” he replied
“It’s November”
“Yeah well, global warming and all that.”
She laughed “Well, as long as you’re ok”
He nodded and smiled thinly back, then returned to his staring contest with the intangible.
Fair enough, she thought.

Presently a jogger came by and paused when he saw her. He walked up to the bench and spoke. “Hey Jane, how are you?” he said, breathing heavily.
“I’m pretty good Kevin, thanks. You?”
“Good, good. Look I’m sorry but I got to keep on track with my regime. I’ll speak to you later ok?” he turned and walked off.
“Feel the burn and love it!” she called to his retreating back

She turned and saw the man had been watching this exchange. “Jealous?” she asked
“Envious actually. That was one handsome guy”
“Did you see his chiselled jaw?”
“I was too busy admiring his bulging abs, but he is certainly quite the Adonis”
“I could introduce you two…”
“I’m a poor swimmer. I’d drown in those baby blues of his”

They paused in their verbal jousting to assess the situation. Two people carefully weighing the other up. It was him that spoke first.

“So, Jane is it?”
“It is. Plain old Jane”
“So, what brings you out on this fine day, plain old Jane?”
“Well, the fact that it is a fine day for one thing” she said airily. Then she gave him a serious look “And I think I can guess why you’re here”
“Oh?”
You’re dressed smartly wearing all black, even your tie, with your eyes watering”
“From hay fever”
“I think it a safe bet that it wasn’t a wedding you were at. Were you close?”
“We…were”
“It’s always hard to lose somebody close to you. Ummm, I have. And felt…broken, for a long, long time. There’s no real advice to give or words to help. Just try and distract yourself with your favourite things”
He gave her an incredibly wry look “Unfortunately my favourite thing involves a woman”
She returned his look “And dare I ask the specifics”
“It has a stupid name that does it no justice at all. The only way you could understand is if I show you”
“Does it involve your hands, or mouth or…midsection?”
“No, no and no”
She took a deep breath and said “fine, at the risk of disappointing feminists everywhere…show me”

He slowly and carefully lowered his head to hers and rested it against her forehead. The bridges of their noses touched and formed a link between them and their eyes, inches apart, stared long and deep, his watering but never quite tearing. Then he lowered his head still further so it rested on her shoulder and their cheeks met. She felt him breath slow and steady and hot into her ear.

And just like that he pulled away, fresh stubble scratching her face in the retreat.
“It’s called nuzzling” he said “Sorry”
“That’s ok,” she said presently
“I was thinking about Kevin’s bulging abs at the time”
She smiled “That would explain the other bulge then” she said, pointing down.

He looked confused but then realised the implication “Hey, that’s just Michael Jackson” he said hurriedly.
She gave him a look. In response he tried to pull it out. She gave him another look. But he persevered and held before her eyes an old clunky IPod.
“Michael Jackson” he said.
“You named your IPod Michael Jackson?”
“Yes”
“Why?”
“Well, I guess I could make some crack about having it since I was a child, but mainly because it’s a black IPod with a white protective sleeve thing”
“Ahhhh” Another look followed. A much warmer one.

She took something out her bag and turned to the side for discretion. Then she turned back to him and presented it to him. It was a bus ticket. Perplexed he went to take it, but she closed her hand into a fist “You know my name, only fair if I learn yours” she said.
“Michael”
“Like the IPod?”
“Like him” he said, putting Michael Jackson away.
“Well Michael like the IPod, I’m afraid I have numerous commitments today, but I will take a chance here and give you this” she handed him the bus ticket. Then she got up and said “Goodbye”
“Bye”
She walked away.

Michael opened his hand and examined the bus ticket. It had her number on it. He looked at it for a long time. Then he held his palm open in the air and let the wind take it from him. He went back to staring at nothing

A long time later Michael arrived back at his flat, some two miles walk away. The walk home had done nothing to disprove his theory that his IPod had achieved sentience. Whilst on shuffle it had played Bonnie Tylers All by myself, Jack Johnsons we’re as lonely as we want to be and Radiohead’s how to disappear completely. He fumbled for the keys in his pocket when something small blew up against the door. It looked like a bus ticket. In fact it was a bus ticket, with a phone number on it no less. He was cynical enough to assume it could be anyone’s, but still you did not argue with shit like this. He pulled out his phone and saved the number as snakes on a Jane. Hen saw that he had also received a text. Dude, Y aint my best man here anymore???” It said. And just like that, his IPod started playing Nice day for a white wedding.
“It’s a nice day to start again”