Omnibus

A dark ride home, as per. Faced with only half empty seats, I, of course, chose one next to a member of the nicer sex. She had headphones. I listened carefully to see if she was filling her ears with something decent but couldn't make body parts of it amidst the bustle. And all the while I stole glances. When she caught me in the act, I would instantly avert my eyes, no doubt making myself more suspicious, and then proceed to shoot seemingly random glances around the room, as if my eyes only stumbled upon her before by accident. At these junctures, I'd make paranoid guesses as to the nature or existence of her thoughts towards me and widen my eyes to the ceiling, occasionally slipping into hopeless fantasy.

Soon I began to notice a look of deep, albeit well-hidden, sadness on her face, and I made sure my ribs were wide open so my heart was free to go out to her. Each subsequent glance I furtively placed upon her person was now tilted like a triangle in empathy, and occasionally I even hoped I would be caught again so she would know I knew. But I wasn't caught. Instead, she began looking over at me as if she was about to say something, then, struck for words or courage, she would quickly look back at the window again. This went on a few times, and each time I tried to say something but also found myself struck. Thankfully, however, she did eventually speak.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked, worriedly.
"I do," I said. "That's where I'm going now."
"Good."
"Why?"
"I have a boyfriend," she said. I gave her a confused look. For keeps.
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing. It's just... Well, I... Something has happened. I feel awful. Hug me."
My heart beat itself off the map.
"What?" I said, startled.
"Platonically," she clarified. "I need it. Now."
"Um..."
"You don't have to."
"I..."
"Never mind."
I leaned over and hesitantly put my right arm around her. Immediately she flung her body onto mine, wrapped me in her arms and rested her head on my shoulder. For a moment, I attempted to keep my less-civilised region in check, but soon I decided to ignore it entirely and threw myself more confidently into the embrace. I could hear her gentle weep in my ear and I held her tighter.

"This is my stop," she said, looking up from the hug.
But she didn't get off. I, however, did. Repulsed, she leapt off my lap and gave me a look of disgust.
"Now it'll be platonic," I said, rather pathetically.

OK, so that last bit didn't happen. But neither did the first bit, so who's complaining?