Coffee. Toast. The same playlist humming in the background as I rush to catch the 7:42 a.m.
bus downtown. That Tuesday was no different. My travel mug was too hot to hold, my coat wasn’t fully buttoned, and my mind was already racing through the avalanche of emails waiting for me at work.
I’m a marketing analyst for a tech company, which sounds glamorous until I explain that I still take the bus every day because parking costs more than my weekly groceries. Those twenty minutes of quiet before the work chaos hits are often the most peaceful part of my day. I get to sip my coffee, catch up on the news, and pretend I’m not about to sit through eight hours of meetings that could’ve been handled by two quick emails.
The air that morning had that sharp edge of late winter — cold enough to make me wish I’d grabbed a scarf, but hinting that spring might eventually show up. The sky hovered in that indecisive gray, like it couldn’t decide whether to rain or just stay gloomy. That’s when I noticed him.
An elderly man stood near the curb, slightly hunched, clutching a small bouquet of daisies wrapped in plastic. His coat hung loosely on his thin frame, the faded fabric suggesting it had once been navy but had long surrendered to a tired blue-gray. But what struck me most were his hands — anxious hands patting every pocket in a repeated loop: front left, front right, back right, coat pocket… then starting over.
His expression tightened with each empty check, worry creeping across his face. The bus sighed to a stop, and the morning crowd surged forward. I tapped my card and headed toward the back, gripping a pole as people settled into their seats.
I pushed my way forward and tapped my card again. “It’s okay,” I said to the driver. “I’ve got him.”
He looked annoyed, but he waved the man through.
“Thank you,” the man whispered, eyes glistening. “Thank you so much, young lady.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. He followed me to a pair of empty seats and lowered himself carefully, resting the daisies across his lap as though afraid they’d bruise.
