The Monday Story

I am surrounded here; sitting on a bus riding down I-95, knowing that the only common denominator between myself and the people sitting around me is this bus. Skin color, occupation, gender; whatever small differences one could use to separate our various existences are overshadowed by the fact that we are all in this moment heading to the other side of Washington D.C.  Of course once there we will all go our separate ways and probably never see each other again. A comforting thought I am sure, to the man standing alone looking as though he may be pick-pocketed at any moment. A tight hold on his backpack and hesitant glances around the train seem to be an obvious indicator this it was his first time alone on public transportation, or not; maybe he is just a nervous guy. For me, a seasoned veteran of public transit, this ride was just another day of taking the cheapest mode of transportation to a potential job opportunity that would almost certainly fall apart at the last minute. Well that not quite right. It wasn’t just another day, it was a good day. One of those days that seems a little brighter than the others and motivates you to try his hand at the lottery for no other sake than why the hell not. A brief, audible chuckle slips from my lips as I think of this bus and all the others like it as empty cans flying down the road, filled to the brim of scowling people and how I am normally right there with them. This bus was the king of the road cans, having a giant Coca-Cola logo painted on the side. Too bad I didn’t have a coke; a drink of any sort would be nice, O well… With a glance I turn my attention forward and am reminded of the most recent catalyst for my unusually pleasant mood. Here, directly in front of me sat one of the most strikingly beautiful women I have ever seen. Dark hair like the black sands of Hawaii, it had a softness that almost asked to have ones hands running through it. Falling around her face; framing her jawline; and stopping just after he breast, one could not help but be struck by the juxtaposition of her deep, blue eyes. Blue in the way the sky is blue just before the sun stretches out its arms to wake the world from its slumber. It was then, in that brief second of a glance our eyes locked and we shared the strangers smile. Quickly turning back to the window as if we were passing some great monument, my smile lingers as I watch the trees and grass pass by, waiting for the next opportunity to look back into those eyes and try to bolster up the courage to say something. But, this was not to be so. Rotating my head slowly to the front of the bus I am able to only catch the moment before the front of our bus was introduced to the front of a Walmart Semi. Our coke can began to wrinkle up the side and I could see those beautiful blue eyes staring back into mine, filled with fear. Feeling myself beginning to thrust forward I know that I am going to slam directly into this angel in front of me. As my ass separates with the seat I successfully make one final effort to contort my shoulders and hips to launch myself in a trajectory that doesn’t result in a collision and destruction of what was certainly one of God’s masterpieces. Gliding past her I am actually able to catch a hint of her perfume and all I can help to think is that I wish I had said something. Everything went black. Waking up days later in the Alexandria Hospital, the first words out of my mouth were asking about this girl whose name I didn’t even know.  Fortunate for me, one of the paramedics first on the scene was nearby working as a nurse. He overheard my description of the girl and came to my bed to tell me what happened.  She had been thrust forward, after the initial impact, and had intercepted a shard of glass on her way to where I had been sitting. I was told that she died painlessly, as did most of the other people on the bus. But that doesn’t seem to help.