I SAW the drunken man as we slowed into the bus station. Swallowing twice, I brushed the moist out of my watch firmly against my shirt.
He staggered aboard and the reek of alcohol filled the bus.
"Anyone s-sittin' there," he slurred at me.
Heart in throat, I forced an honest, though somewhat hoarse reply, "No. It's available."
He plopped down, jarring me with a shoulder before coming to rest. I flinched, but it seems he didn't notice.
"How'reya doin' this wonnerful e'nin?" he asked, head flopping sidelong.
Deliberately inhaling, tasting a mixture of alcohol and sweat, I replied, "Just... fine, thanks." I paused, but grasped for a connection, "And how are you?"
"Yaknow, what a fine watch you have there. Like the one I've given to my li' son," he exclaimed
I sat bolt-upright.
"But 'yers looks more expensive and classy. I can tell 'cause I'ma watch-maker you see. Too bad my son doesn't wanted to be."
Blinking, I responded, "thank you." And forging ahead, I asked, "Where is he now?"
He listed forward with the vehicle's deceleration. Squinting, he sucked air and enunciated three words: "He. Left. Me." After which he mumbled, "I don't blame him. He's ashamed that his father is a broke watch-maker.
The bus halted and he lurched back against the seat.
"It's my stop" he announced, and pulled himself up.
Maybe it was his drunkenness, as he turned, his hand darted out and grabbed me by the shoulder. He looked toward me blearily as I said, "It was... nice talking to you."
I believe I felt him squeeze.
Watching him stagger his way out of the bus, I noticed the scent of alcohol lingers. I looked at the watch that my father gave me while the bus accelerated from the last stop.