She sat with her head bowed, looking at the floor or her feet: I couldn’t tell which.
She barely moved save for the slight tremble in her shoulders that shook strands of her hair like tree boughs in the breeze.
I wondered what she might be thinking. I wondered what she might be experiencing.
People on the subway platform were oblivious to her, and seemingly, to each other. But she captivated me. I wanted so much to find a way to comfort her.
But then again, how presumptuous of me. To think that I could provide comfort to a perfect stranger. To think that it would be OK to cross the invisible line that separates us, one from the other, and keeps us in our own little world of grief or loneliness.
But then again, perhaps she was giggling. Perhaps she was sharing with herself an inside joke or a comical remembrance.
My train was pulling in. She hadn’t moved. I’d never know.
Did you enjoy this post? Subscribe to get more like it delivered to your inbox.