September 2, 2008
When I was riding the bus all the time, I used to play this little mental game to entertain myself. I would look at people around me in the bus seats and imagine where they had just come from or where they were going. I would imagine that that woman over there had brochures for her dream vacation inside her bag. She was on her way home to pour over them and make plans for saving her pennies to make this trip come true. The man over there is going home to make dinner for someone he loves; they will exchange stories about their day and put the dishes off for later. That sad-looking little girl over there is wondering if there is a way out--if she'll ever be old enough and big enough and far enough away that his hands can't reach her, that his fists can't touch her. I want to tell her that she will.