Photo by Rain drizzled softly, as if the night wanted to remain unnoticed. Milan stood under the shelter at the square, watching droplets form ripples on the pavement while waiting for the last bus to Banovo Brdo.
When the headlights of the number twelve appeared, he raised his hood and stepped inside. Only a few passengers were scattered through the dim interior: a sleeping young man in a leather jacket, an elderly woman with a scarf—and a girl sitting alone, third seat on the left, a book resting in her lap.
Her long dark hair spilled over her shoulders. As she lifted her gaze, the streetlight illuminated her face. Something about her felt strangely familiar, as if he remembered a moment that had never happened.
Milan sat across from her. The bus rumbled down Nemanjina Street, rain streaking the windows like melting comets.
“Late ride,” she said softly, eyes on her book.
“Yeah, just a few of us tonight,” he replied.
“Or exactly the ones meant to be,” she answered, finally meeting his eyes. They were a shifting gray-green, catching the light in unexpected ways.
“That sounds… fateful,” he said with a half-smile.
“Perhaps it is.” She closed her book, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Memories of the Future read the title—one he’d never heard of.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
“Encounters that change the course of life,” she said, a small smile hinting at the irony. “And you? Coming back from work?”
“No, an old army friend was in town. We had a drink, lost track of time.”
“Interesting how meetings happen when you think you’ve planned everything,” she continued. “Maybe that’s when the world tests if you’re ready for something new.”
Her words sent a pleasant chill through him, as if awakening a memory he should have known. He wanted to ask her name, but the bus lurched suddenly. Lights flickered, and for a heartbeat everything was silent.
When the engine resumed, she was already standing.
“This is my stop,” she said with a smile. “I believe we’ll meet again.”
“Wait—at least tell me…” But the doors hissed open and she stepped into the rain. He watched through the window as she disappeared into the shadows.
On her seat lay the book. Milan picked it up. At first, every page was blank—pure white, without a single printed word. Then he noticed a faint seam near the middle and carefully pulled it open to the very last page.
There, written in a graceful hand:
“Every encounter has a reason. Some reasons you discover later.”
Below the note, one more line:
Ana – Košutnjak Street 17, second floor.
His heart raced. The address was clear, undeniable.
As the bus rolled on through the wet streets, Milan no longer saw the city lights or the rain. In his mind he was already walking that street, imagining an old building, a doorbell, the moment he would hear her voice again.
He didn’t know whether it was chance or something more, but he knew one thing—he had to find her.
When he stepped off at his stop, the night suddenly felt like the beginning of something he couldn’t explain. The blank book in his hand seemed heavier with meaning, and the address burned like a quiet promise.
Sometimes a single encounter can change the course of a life. Would you follow the address? 🤔
SRPSKI
Neočekivani susret u noćnom autobusu
Kiša je sitno sipila, kao da noć pokušava da ostane neprimetna. Milan je stajao pod nadstrešnicom na Trgu, posmatrao kapljice kako prave krugove po asfaltu i čekao poslednji autobus za Banovo Brdo.
Kada su se svetla dvanaestice pojavila, podigao je kapuljaču i ušao. U autobusu je bilo tek nekoliko ljudi: momak u kožnoj jakni koji je spavao, postarija žena s maramom — i devojka koja je sedela sama, treće sedište s leve strane, s knjigom u krilu.
Duga tamna kosa prelivala joj se preko ramena. Kad je podigla pogled, svetlost ulične lampe obasjala joj je lice. Nešto u njoj učinilo mu se neobično poznatim, kao sećanje koje nikada nije imao.
Seo je naspram nje. Autobus je zatutnjao niz Nemanjinu, dok su kišne pruge na staklu pretvarale svetla grada u razlivene komete.
„Kasna vožnja,“ rekla je tiho.
„Da, izgleda da nas je samo nekolicina,“ odgovorio je.
„Ili baš oni koji treba da budu,“ uzvratila je i podigla oči. Bile su sivo-zelene, boje koja se menja zavisno od svetla.
„Zvuči sudbinski,“ nasmejao se.
„Možda i jeste.“ Zatvorila je knjigu i sklonila pramen kose. Na koricama je pisalo Sećanja budućnosti.
„O čemu je?“ upita.
„O susretima koji menjaju tok života,“ rekla je i osmehnula se. „A ti?“
„Bio sam s prijateljem iz vojske. Popili smo koju… malo se zadržao.“
„Zanimljivo kako se susreti dese kad misliš da je sve isplanirano,“ nastavila je. „Možda baš tada svet proverava da li si spreman za novo.“
Njene reči probudiše u njemu čudnu jezu, ali prijatnu. Hteo je da je pita za ime, ali autobus je naglo zakočio. Svetla zatreperiše i na tren nastade tišina.
Kada je motor ponovo zabrujao, ona je već stajala.
„Ovo je moja stanica,“ reče s blagim osmehom. „Verujem da ćemo se ponovo sresti.“
„Čekaj, bar mi reci…“ ali vrata su se otvorila i ona nestade u kiši. Samo ju je gledao dok su je senke gutale.
Na sedištu je ostavila knjigu. Milan je podiže. Stranice su bile prazne, sasvim bele. Već je hteo da je spusti, kad primeti tanku liniju u sredini. Pažljivo je prelistao do kraja.
Na poslednjoj stranici stajala je poruka:
„Svaki susret ima razlog. Neki razlog tek treba da otkriješ.“
Ispod toga, uredno napisano:
„Ana – Ulica Košutnjak 17, drugi sprat.“
Srce mu zatrepta. Adresa je bila jasna, nepogrešiva.
Dok je autobus klizio mokrim ulicama, Milan više nije primećivao grad. U mislima je već hodao tim putem, zamišljajući staru zgradu, zvono na vratima, trenutak kada će ponovo čuti njen glas.
Nije znao da li je to slučajnost ili nešto drugo, ali je znao jedno – moraće da je pronađe.
Kada je sišao na svojoj stanici, noć mu se učinila kao početak nečeg što ne može da objasni. Knjigu je stiskao u ruci, a adresa je u njegovoj svesti svetlela kao tiho obećanje.
Ponekad jedan susret menja sve. Da li biste i vi krenuli za tom adresom? 🤔