“That’s the way it was, and sometimes, some stories demand to be told,” said the old lady with the bouffant hairdo that was popular back in the 1960s. Her eyes danced with a memory only she could remember.
“I have one of those stories. I should tell you about it. You know, when I was a bit older than you, I started my own company – I imported cigars and champagnes,” she added. The old lady nodded her head and clucked the roof of her toothless mouth with her tongue while she waited for a reply.
“Well, I’d love to hear your story, but I think that’s my bus coming,” the girl with headphones said. She pulled her backpack off the bench and stood up, inching closer to the curb.
“Oh, that’s my bus, too. I’ve been taking this same bus for 50 years. Can you imagine that? 50 years. I hope Ed’s driving today. He’s such a sweet man,” the old lady said.
The girl nodded and smiled a fake smile. She wished she could just sit at a bus stop without all the local crazies bugging her. They always spotted her, wanted to talk to her.
The old woman gave the girl one last glance. How nice it would be to talk her – to talk to anyone, she thought. If only someone would listen. She really did have a great story to tell.