He took a seat on the coffee-stained upholstery. He let his head rest against the place where thousands of heads had rested before his. He fidgeted a little bit with his bags. He got out a book that he read with enough interest to keep him distracted for a stop or two before his mind started wandering again. He just couldn't help himself from eavesdropping. He overheard a first-person account of a man's harrowing experience of seeing the gross gay couple from across the hall kiss.
He sat there, half-interested in the middle part of a paragraph he couldn't seem to finish, and half-interested in the angst of another man's homophobia.
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She walked down a sodden street of an historically active city that, at that moment, seemed peacefully at rest. She couldn't help but be excited for finally meeting with an old friend to catch themselves up on each other's lives. She couldn't help but people watch either. She passed by a couple standing on a shaded corner of a quiet street. He standing over his bicycle with his arms rested on the handles, and he with his arms on his, faces almost touching. She could feel their love and affection radiating out from their soft gazes and wanted to giggle, for up until that moment, she had only seen enamored couples such as them in movies.
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