flower girl / mona

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Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle

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I couldn't help but notice - the moon seemed extra large today

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Today, there was a girl on the bus. She was sitting in the first row of the upper deck and seemed to be engrossed in thought. Without paying her much attention, I settled myself into the seat behind her. And then she started sobbing softly. She was sitting with her feet up, arms crossed upon her knees with her face buried in the crook of her elbow. I wouldn't have noticed if not for the sound of her intermittent sniffing. When the sun and shade permitted, I caught glimpses of her reflection in the window. Every now and again she would wipe her tears with the cuff of her long sleeved jumper. Beside her lay a bouquet, arranged carefully and wrapped neatly in layers of plastic.

As I got off the bus, I couldn't help but think: should I have said something? If so, what should I have said? What would she have said? Would it have made a difference? I've never been good at expressing unsolicited concern. I always feel odd observing the daily drama of people around me - to be shown a total stranger's solitary struggles - I just don't know how to react. Most people are extremely selective when it comes to sharing their inner thoughts and troubles, but then - when you least expect it - they let their guard down. It's so rare to witness another person's private life - the part they normally keep tucked away beneath their public persona. But for a short while, two normally disconnected worlds intersected, and then went off along their respective orbits. Some may regard it as an unremarkable encounter, but it left a huge impression on me. Such closeness always makes me uncomfortable.

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Mona the florist's assistant. Pretty sure there's a story in there somewhere. (one at a time)