A Standing Moment At The Bus Stop
An older man stared down at two metal coins resting in his open palm.
He folded his fingers slowly over the small change and shifted his weight on the concrete sidewalk.
A few paces away, a young man sat hunched on a wooden bench against a red brick wall. His dark hoodie was zipped up tight, and his knees were drawn close together as he stared at his worn sneakers.
The older man stepped closer, his heavy brown coat swaying with each movement. He stopped directly in front of the bench.
“What’s wrong?” the older man asked.
The younger man looked up, his face pale under the twilight streetlights. He rubbed his hands together nervously before opening his mouth to explain.
“I lost my ticket,” he said, his voice dropping low. “I need to get home tonight.”
A Counting Of Coins
The older man brought his hand up to his chin, his thumb resting against his thick gray beard. He listened quietly without moving away.
He looked back down at his open palm, where the two metal coins sat still against his calloused skin.
He looked at the boy sitting on the bench, then turned his gaze toward the busy city street where buses were idling near the curb.
Without saying another word, the older man turned on his heel and walked toward the glass ticket booth attached to the transit shelter.
He reached the counter window and reached into his coat pocket. He laid his money onto the flat counter surface, sliding it across to the attendant on the other side of the partition.
The ticket agent took the payment, processed the entry, and handed back a long paper bus ticket.
The older man retrieved the slip of paper, gripped it firmly between his fingers, and walked back toward the bench.
Exchanging Ticket For Passage
He extended his hand, holding the ticket out toward the seating area.
The young man stared at the paper slip in disbelief before looking up into the older man’s face.
“But you need that money,” the young man said, hesitating as he reached out. “I can find another way home.”
“You can’t miss yours,” the older man answered softly.
He leaned forward and patted the younger man gently on the shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before stepping back onto the pavement.
The boarding call sounded as the white and blue city bus opened its automatic front doors right at the platform edge.
The young man grabbed his ticket, stood up, and climbed the three entry steps into the lighted interior of the vehicle.
Before stepping through the fare gate, he paused on the top step and turned around to face the sidewalk once more.
“Why would you do this for someone you don’t know?” he asked, leaning slightly over the bus railing.
The older man stood firm on the pavement, his coat unbuttoned at the neck.
“Because someone once helped me when I had nowhere to go,” he replied, his mouth forming a quiet, subtle smile.
Standing Alone As The Bus Departs
The automatic doors glided shut with a soft hiss, closing off the stairwell.
The bus engine revved loudly, and the large vehicle pulled away from the curb, merging into the evening traffic line.
The older man turned his head to watch the red taillights shrink into the distance.
He slid both hands deep into the side pockets of his worn brown coat and stood stationary on the quiet curb as tail lights flickered down the dark avenue.
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