There's a story in that somewhere.

It came from a dream or a conversation or something I read on the web.
I worked it in my mind as I walked to the bus. The sleepy college students silently commiserate at the bus station. They hunch their shoulders and stick their fists in their pockets. My chin rests on my color bone and I watch the moister from my nostrils make fog on my glasses. It slowly clear and I see the still figures with their back packs full of books. Then they are gone behind a cloud of precious heat escaping from my body. The bus pulls up. The doors open and we all file on sullenly flashing our passes at the driver who nods and counts us as we pass. Suddenly we are people again. the hoods are lowered and heads are held up. People get comfortable for the long ride. I sit by myself for now. At the next stop there will be many more students getting on. Across from me a student is making an attempt at getting some reading done. Another is listening to his i-pod and getting ready to fall asleep. We mind our own business. We are all in this together but no one wants to talk about it. Not this early in the morning.
It starts as a few lines in a green note book. I scribbled hastily on whatever page falls open. No one can read it but me. No one would try.
It's just an idea. Maybe it will stay an idea forever. There is nothing terribly original about it. It's been done a million times. Somewhere some one else had an idea and wrote it down and it grew. It was special to that person. It's special to me. Something about it strikes a spark in my mind. It's a door that begs to be opened and explored. I'll get around to opening it someday. The green note book was supposed to be for taking notes in class. Now it sits in one of the darker corners of my closet filled with thoughts and musings.
Funny how these things come: in dreams and little things people said. And always on the bus.
"No one ever writes stories about the happily ever after part." Some one said that once. i can't remember who. I thought about it on the bus. I wonder what happened to Sleeping Beauty after she woke and, presumably, became the queen of a country at the ripe old age of one-hundred-sixteen. There's a story in that somewhere.
Speaking of princesses, I read once about a viking damsel who turned pirate and had the first co-ed long boat known to legend. She was finally defeated by a Danish prince in a stunning sea battle. The Danish prince was an old suitor of hers. At the end of the battle he fell to his knees on her blood stained deck and asked her to marry him. She said yes! That's quite a story already but it would be interesting to explore.
"You know what's cool about being Catholic? You can be very Irish or you can be very Mexican and be very Catholic either way." That would be a fun thing to write about; a Mexican and an Irishman stuck together somehow. There are several ways to get a story out of that.
Maybe one of them will actually become a story someday.