The other side

"I waited for her bus to arrive. She got on the bus and stood by the door waving her hand. I said good bye. The door shut. I rode my bicycle. The bus shuddered when the engine turned on. It started with a roar and black smoke behind it. I stepped on the pedal. I followed the bus. I started to challenge the bus. I wanted to test myself for how long I could keep up with it. I worked the pedal frantically with all my strength. I saw the bus going farther and farther away from me. By the time I came where our ways parted I gave up. I went off to the branch road. I could see a speck of red lamp, brake lamp of the bus, on and off. I thought the bus was fast. i thought about the cycle racers. I wondered how much more i had to train my thigh muscle to run at the speed of the bus."
We were sharing the same event. But what the difference the way we took it. I forgot about her from the moment the bus started and got involved in the race with the bus while she kept pouring an endearing look at me. It was not that I did not have an interest in her. Actually I liked her a lot. Is this the difference between a man and woman? or between Type O and B? or between an ordinary man and me? When I received her letter I was moved by the way she described the event that softly hinted her love.
I learned for the first time how different things look from person to person. The difference is almost unimaginable which brings us sometimes tragedy but sometimes makes the life wonderful by barely saving it from the boredom.