its lid. She stands. The bus door opens. “Well hello Jim. Good morning doll.”
“Good morning Miss Rose,” Jim, the bus driver says. “Did you meet Mr. Right yet?”
“Hell Jim, everybody is just right to me, you know that.”
“I know. I gotta say I like to hear you say it though.” He’s wearing a pair of her gloves, gray and without tips for the fingers.
“Thanks,” says the protagonist as the doors close and the bus moves off. Shortly thereafter, his own bus arrives.
everyone looks so solemn in the
morning
their faces are drawn with weariness
ruminating
like last night they lost sleep to
fighting
as if they have demons'
suffering
in their own search for
meaning
A feeling comes over him, an incredible glow, as he takes his seat and looks about him at the people on the bus. He wants to reach out with his heart and comfort them. He is quiet but wears a smile as he absorbs the sensation of being surrounded by these similar souls.
While the stops progress people disembark and board. They all come from different walks in life but most have the same way of looking, faces hiding unknown struggles. As every person boards, he is overcome by that same desire, to reach out and reaffirm them with his compassion. He meets their eyes with his own, clairvoyance paired with a subtle smile.
When his time comes to disembark he pulls the chord, sounding a ding to which the driver stops according to the next bus sign standing between the sidewalk and the street. The protagonist looks out the at the crowd of school children assembled under the sign before he stands and shuffles quietly out the door. On his way out he passes them, their school bags strapped to their tiny backs.
Most of them are giddy with energy, smiling and laughing and teasing one another in a mostly nice manner. A young boy who wears glasses and his school uniform, a plaid shirt with tones of blue under a black vest and black pants over glossy brown dress shoes, stares down at the ground, his clean cut head drooped. As the protagonist passes the kid looks up to him. He identifies they both wear glasses. The protagonist smiles and softly says, “Hi.” The kid responds with his own faint smile and a shy “hi” as well. They separate to their own ways, to the courses life has laid out for them.
“Good morning Miss Rose,” Jim, the bus driver says. “Did you meet Mr. Right yet?”
“Hell Jim, everybody is just right to me, you know that.”
“I know. I gotta say I like to hear you say it though.” He’s wearing a pair of her gloves, gray and without tips for the fingers.
“Thanks,” says the protagonist as the doors close and the bus moves off. Shortly thereafter, his own bus arrives.
everyone looks so solemn in the
morning
their faces are drawn with weariness
ruminating
like last night they lost sleep to
fighting
as if they have demons'
suffering
in their own search for
meaning
A feeling comes over him, an incredible glow, as he takes his seat and looks about him at the people on the bus. He wants to reach out with his heart and comfort them. He is quiet but wears a smile as he absorbs the sensation of being surrounded by these similar souls.
While the stops progress people disembark and board. They all come from different walks in life but most have the same way of looking, faces hiding unknown struggles. As every person boards, he is overcome by that same desire, to reach out and reaffirm them with his compassion. He meets their eyes with his own, clairvoyance paired with a subtle smile.
When his time comes to disembark he pulls the chord, sounding a ding to which the driver stops according to the next bus sign standing between the sidewalk and the street. The protagonist looks out the at the crowd of school children assembled under the sign before he stands and shuffles quietly out the door. On his way out he passes them, their school bags strapped to their tiny backs.
Most of them are giddy with energy, smiling and laughing and teasing one another in a mostly nice manner. A young boy who wears glasses and his school uniform, a plaid shirt with tones of blue under a black vest and black pants over glossy brown dress shoes, stares down at the ground, his clean cut head drooped. As the protagonist passes the kid looks up to him. He identifies they both wear glasses. The protagonist smiles and softly says, “Hi.” The kid responds with his own faint smile and a shy “hi” as well. They separate to their own ways, to the courses life has laid out for them.