Then they spotted me. She pointed at my face behind the bus window, and they both grinned and waved.
When I met her smiling eyes, it was with an empty gaze and my best straight face. Perhaps it was because my tongue was twitching against my teeth, because I was resisting the urge to stick it out at her, to give her the finger, to scream and call her a bitch. Or maybe it was another way of saying, yes, I like women, but no, I never liked you.
But I don’t really think so. Honestly, I think I’d just run out of parts to play.