Reflection

Pearl sat down grinning broadly, looking out the window she stared at the people waiting to get on the bus while she thought excitedly of her best friends upcoming wedding.
“What are you so happy about?” a masculine voice said with a thump in the seat next to her. She turned her head her toothy grin turning into a more demure smile. “I am going to my best-friends wedding” She answered plucking at her jean skirt “I--” “Whatta coincidence!” he interrupted “I’m going to my best-friends wedding!” “Really?” Pearls voice held a note of surprise with just a touch of skepticism stemming from the fact that this ragged man was even talking to her “What is your friend like?”
What a dish! John thought to himself, I bet I can do that, she probably doesn’t even think she’s pretty. “My best-friend? O man, I tell you what, that kid an’ I have been in so many scrapes, in high school we’d terrorize our French teacher, move his coffee mug around, Hell, this one time we stacked all the chairs against a wall. Crazy that one, promised we’d dance naked in the rain, hasn’t happened yet. Even had a fan club for awhile. Not athletic but still out-doorsy. Loves campin’ and critters and learning to fight. You wouldn’t think it if you looked at Falcon, but definitely commanding, even bossy at times.”
This one sure can run his mouth, thought Pearl as he dusted off his worn knee. “Sounds like quite a character, my friend is almost the opposite. Quiet, calm, shy, always has an ear to listen, people tend to open up to her, complete strangers will share their life stories. She’s private, doesn’t like people to see her cry. She’s passive, and a pacifist. She loves languages. She is absolutely devoted to the people she loves. Her family, a few friends, mainly her family.” She stopped, the bus had started again, she stared out the window hoping he would ignore her and sifted through memories of her gentle best friend, tranquil evenings spent talking about life, the universe, and everything, poems written, and the influence she’d had.
John knew a dismissal when he saw one and leaned back thinking fondly of Falcon and the times they’d had, playing pretend, running through the plateau steppe that was their home, of late nights trying out a knew juicer, checking out girls in the warm weather.
The bus arrived at three o’clock at the dusty gas station in Moses Lake, Pearl and John collected their baggage and got off the bus aware of one another but looking for their best friends. “Angelique!” “Falcon” they yell at the same time heading for a dumpy, long haired, white girl.