Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Sad (07/26/07)
TITLE: The 7:15 to Westside
By Deanna Wessel
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
It was usually the same crew waiting there. Some arrived before me and others always managed to get there at the last possible moment.
There was the young up-and-coming executive. I’m pretty sure his name was Carl. Though he was certainly too busy to talk to anyone. He was probably in his mid-twenties. He talked to the air about his latest and greatest deal with his blue-tooth plugged securely into his freshly scrubbed ear. He wore designer suits and carried a fancy leather portfolio.
Gary was another thing. He’d arrive twenty or thirty seconds before the big blue behemoth would roll to a stop near the curb. Occasionally, fuzzy brown hair waved on the back of his head; an indication that he’d risen much too late for a shower. His dated and worn shirts were wrinkled and untucked. He didn’t wear a wedding ring and sometimes reeked of day old alcohol.
Then, there was Ruth, grandma to all of us on the week-day morning crew. At least one day a week she’d bring cookies or donuts and give some to everyone waiting. I don’t remember ever seeing her in anything other than black knit slacks and a neatly pressed pink smock. Ruth volunteered at University Hospital, just two blocks from the office where I worked.
The other regular at Third and Haney was a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. I couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone talk to the girl before. There was something about her that just seemed so … sad. She sat alone, shoulders bent slightly forward, head eyes rarely looking at anything but the ground in front of her.
Once, months earlier, I’d noticed that the girl arrived with a fresh bruise on her cheek and puffy, red-rimmed eyes. I’d wanted to talk to her then, but something stopped me. What if she blurted out a story I didn’t want to hear? What if she turned out to be needy or clingy? What if she asked me for something I couldn’t give? I simply couldn’t have dealt with it. So, I chose to ignore the sad, young girl’s unspoken plea for a friend.
September 10th, though, something was different. I don’t really have any idea what the difference was. Was it in me or in the young woman … or maybe both? Whatever the case, something was definitely different on that particular morning. The metro bus stopped just feet away. The young girl stood and glanced over her shoulder … at me. Her overwhelming sadness and sense of desperation leaped from her eyes into my own. There was no denying her cry for help and there was no way for my heart to set aside what had transpired in that simple, powerful look.
I prayed for wisdom as I wanted to be the last one to board the bus that day. I’d reached a decision; one I’d often in the past few months wished I could do over. I climbed the bus steps; walked down the aisle, and stopped next to the seat where the sad young woman sat slumped against the dirty window.
“Hi, my name is Emma. Can I sit with you today?”
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.