Bitter air nibbles the back of my neck. I pull the worn cloth on my coat closer to my ears and sit down on the splintered bench, next to the quiet, dark-skinned girl. Her name is unknown to me, though we travel this same path daily.
We come from the same dilapidated street and, judging by the rags she wears, we are haunted by similar stories.
The doors of the bus open and warm air thieves the rawness from my cheeks. I nod and she boards first.
She smiles, takes my walking stick, and guides me to the last seat.
Photo courtesy of Alex Wong/Stocksnap.io