The Stranger Who Sat Down Like I Still Mattered
I looked up through tears and saw a young woman crouched in front of me.
Thirty-ish. Kind eyes. Dark hair in a practical ponytail.
Medical scrubs under her winter coat.
“I’m fine,” I lied automatically. “Just… a difficult day.”
She didn’t let it go.
“You don’t look fine. Can I call someone? Family?”
The word family made me laugh in a way that startled us both.
“No family,” I said. “Not anymore.”
She sat beside me anyway.
“I’m Debbie,” she said softly. “I’m a nurse. My bus leaves at eleven. I’ve got time. I can listen.”
