The bus is a funny thing. It’s one of those few places with a constant rotation of a completely non-homogenous group. School kids, openly amorous teenage lovers (gay or straight), homeless, those with disabilities (mental or physical), fathers with daughters, mothers with sons, errand runners, business people, teachers. The list goes on.
Each one with their own story.
But this is the bus. You walk on, pay, and then either put in your Apple white earbuds, pull out a book, look at your phone, or look asleep. Those who do none of those simply look bored and disconnected. This is the bus, you don’t connect with the other humans on it.
Maybe it’s because simply riding the bus doesn’t give you enough in common to breach the Talking to Strangers barrier. But I’m pretty sure as I watch all of these people board and disembark that they all have interesting stories if only you’d ask.
There’s this older couple that’s on the same bus every morning. She seems to have a slight mental disorder. She asks questions with the speech impediment of a child, and also their unquenchable persistence. While his face is tired, his arm is constantly around her as he patiently answers her repeated questions. Now and again there is a quick kiss.