He could feel a light breeze blowing onto his face, caressing his beard, the light chill akin to a lover’s touch onto his skin. Waiting at the bruised and battered bus stop every evening had been a part of his religiously followed routine. His world, the tiny corner that he called home was nothing truly special.
He woke up quite early; even earlier than the standards of early-risers. He always had, he would say if asked upon it. Unlike others, he was never the friendliest. A stoic calmness defined him. It was a trait quite admirable yet not the greatest for making acquaintance. He didn’t need anyone, he would say when asked about it. But as anyone would affirm, there is something special about a man truly devoted. Not many are gifted with such perseverance. In the life he had lived, he had known loneliness. Quite intimately, as a matter of fact. Orphanhood had seen to it…Until one fateful day, he knew companionship.
Bus stops are an anomaly today; the days of regular bus travel are long gone. Yet, he quite enjoyed sitting at one – seeing the passage of life in the turning of wheels. It was a lesson quite melancholic. In these soul-searching rests, he had found his first friend.
His companion also had quandaries quaint. She had changed routes out of necessity but this road was intriguing nonetheless. Observing one man sitting alone under a bus-stop long-unused felt strange. So, one evening she had decided to ask the man the reason. She had sat down and talked to the lonesome man, which she admitted was quite unlike her. One deeply philosophical conversation later with the man who it seemed was speaking for the first time had her quite affected. So, she continued to do so every day. Hearing the thoughts of someone who had done nothing but observe and understood the world for an entire lifetime was excellent life advice by her standards. As it kept happening, her companion too had changed. He spoke clearer, a touch more confidence. He too was getting better; that was until it stopped altogether abruptly.
Haste can often blind a person. A step too far can be a nasty fall. A word unthought is a broken heart. And one forgotten look north would have shown a car moving far too fast. Accidents and funerals are grim happenings that often go together. The tragedy is the humor of the wise after all. But to one solitary, a collision had taken the joy of life forever. And so he wept. A light patter could be heard from the roof of a rusty brown bus stop. As the gates of heaven burst forth, the teardrops of a lonesome man hit the pavement. The droplets kept falling – those of the skies and a broken soul.
