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Description
Imagine this; You’re sat on a bus. You’re at the back, so you feel the low rumble of the engine more than the other passengers. On top of that, it’s a bumpy ride. There are pot-holes in the road that the bus doesn't always run over, rocks that the wheels and gliding over with ease. You’re resting your head on the cool glass of the window, your head draws back and hits the window every now and again. You’ve taken this route, for what feels like, hundreds of times. You know where you're going, and you know every stop of the way. It isn’t hard to remember. There are headphones pressed against your head, playing a poppy tune, to stave off the nausea that comes along with the bumpy ride. You aren’t alone, there are six other people seated across the large vehicle. There are two elderly women sat at the front of the bus, you can’t hear them, but you assume that they’re making a pleasant conversation based on their smiles and movements. There’s a middle-aged man, who’s reading something on his phone, he’s sat in front of you, along with a dog who’s yapping happily and running up and down the aisle despite his owners protest. The man had attempted multiple times to pick the dog up and place it on the seat next to him, hover, the dog had too much energy to stay still. There are three middle school-ers sat at the middle of the bus, each taking their own set of seats. They’re laughing so loud you can hear it over your music. There are six other passengers, plus a dog, on the bus. That is until the bus comes to another screeching stop, this is the fifth one on the way to your home. Someone steps on, their quivering, whipping their eyes as they pay for their ticket. You’re seemingly the only one that noticed. They- no, you notice the person is a she, walks and seats herself near you. You go back to staring out of the window. But only for a second, as questions about this crying person are racing in your mind. You sigh and you take off your headphones. You move and sit behind her, you understand that it could be seen as creepy, but you do it anyway. You’re concerned for her. You tap her shoulder, her head whips around. “I- uh, yeah?” She asks, her voice almost a whisper.
“Sorry, I was just wondering, are you okay?” You say, even though this woman was clearly not okay. She shakes her head as tears fall down her cheeks. “Do… do you need someone to talk to?” she presses her lips together, before nodding and moving her bag so you can sit next to her. It takes her a while to speak, as her eyes are moving as if reading her own thoughts. “I’m sorry, I know this is stupid but… my pet died recently,” she finally says, tears spilling silently.
“What was their name?” You ask, you want to help.
“Rose, she was… she was the best at cuddles,” The woman started, “She was a siamese rat, she- um,” a sob escaped her, “She died in my arms,”.
“She sounded amazing,”
“She was,” the woman continued to shake as parts of her face grew red from crying.
“What was the best thing you did with her?” you ask, trying to make the woman think of the good times. She would be less sad if she didn’t remember the death, but the animal themselves.
“I took her out in the snow, on my shoulder though, and not for long. She would’ve gotten too cold otherwise,” she smiled fondly, “She loved it,”
“What was her favourite treat?”
“Anything really, she was a chubby rat.”
“Do you have any photos?” The woman smiled as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out her phone. It wasn’t long until a photo of an, admittedly, cute rat, was shoved into your face. “Did she have a good life?”
“Yeah, I think so,”
“Then… Well, it’s understandable that your sad, but Rose had a good life, she was an amazing little rat, and it just had to end, it had to happen sooner or later,” you explain. The woman nodded, before letting out a large sigh. “Thank you, so much,” she said. You watch the road for a second. “My names Melody, what’s yours?”-

But, of course, that was all your imagination.

Instead, you watch as this shaking and crying woman stepped onto the bus, and cried. You did nothing, theorising over why she was upset, instead of simply asking. You do this, because it’s better this way, for you.

Instead of making an impact, you sit and wait. You feel the rumble of the engine, you feel the bumps in the road. You can smell damp concrete wafting in from the open window, just above “Melody”. You focus on the music blasting in your ears so loud that it’s starting to ache. All until the bus comes to a screeching stop at your home, all until you follow the tracks of an excited dog and walk down the aisle of the bus. Until you step onto the wet stone on the ground and watch as the bus continues on. You see the woman's face one last time before turning around in the pouring rain. You continue your life, and don’t give this woman a second thought.

Description
Imagine this; You’re sat on a bus. You’re at the back, so you feel the low rumble of the engine more than the other passengers. On top of that, it’s a bumpy ride. There are pot-holes in the road that the bus doesn't always run over, rocks that the wheels and gliding over with ease. You’re resting your head on the cool glass of the window, your head draws back and hits the window every now and again. You’ve taken this route, for what feels like, hundreds of times. You know where you're going, and you know every stop of the way. It isn’t hard to remember. There are headphones pressed against your head, playing a poppy tune, to stave off the nausea that comes along with the bumpy ride. You aren’t alone, there are six other people seated across the large vehicle. There are two elderly women sat at the front of the bus, you can’t hear them, but you assume that they’re making a pleasant conversation based on their smiles and movements. There’s a middle-aged man, who’s reading something on his phone, he’s sat in front of you, along with a dog who’s yapping happily and running up and down the aisle despite his owners protest. The man had attempted multiple times to pick the dog up and place it on the seat next to him, hover, the dog had too much energy to stay still. There are three middle school-ers sat at the middle of the bus, each taking their own set of seats. They’re laughing so loud you can hear it over your music. There are six other passengers, plus a dog, on the bus. That is until the bus comes to another screeching stop, this is the fifth one on the way to your home. Someone steps on, their quivering, whipping their eyes as they pay for their ticket. You’re seemingly the only one that noticed. They- no, you notice the person is a she, walks and seats herself near you. You go back to staring out of the window. But only for a second, as questions about this crying person are racing in your mind. You sigh and you take off your headphones. You move and sit behind her, you understand that it could be seen as creepy, but you do it anyway. You’re concerned for her. You tap her shoulder, her head whips around. “I- uh, yeah?” She asks, her voice almost a whisper.
“Sorry, I was just wondering, are you okay?” You say, even though this woman was clearly not okay. She shakes her head as tears fall down her cheeks. “Do… do you need someone to talk to?” she presses her lips together, before nodding and moving her bag so you can sit next to her. It takes her a while to speak, as her eyes are moving as if reading her own thoughts. “I’m sorry, I know this is stupid but… my pet died recently,” she finally says, tears spilling silently.
“What was their name?” You ask, you want to help.
“Rose, she was… she was the best at cuddles,” The woman started, “She was a siamese rat, she- um,” a sob escaped her, “She died in my arms,”.
“She sounded amazing,”
“She was,” the woman continued to shake as parts of her face grew red from crying.
“What was the best thing you did with her?” you ask, trying to make the woman think of the good times. She would be less sad if she didn’t remember the death, but the animal themselves.
“I took her out in the snow, on my shoulder though, and not for long. She would’ve gotten too cold otherwise,” she smiled fondly, “She loved it,”
“What was her favourite treat?”
“Anything really, she was a chubby rat.”
“Do you have any photos?” The woman smiled as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out her phone. It wasn’t long until a photo of an, admittedly, cute rat, was shoved into your face. “Did she have a good life?”
“Yeah, I think so,”
“Then… Well, it’s understandable that your sad, but Rose had a good life, she was an amazing little rat, and it just had to end, it had to happen sooner or later,” you explain. The woman nodded, before letting out a large sigh. “Thank you, so much,” she said. You watch the road for a second. “My names Melody, what’s yours?”-

But, of course, that was all your imagination.

Instead, you watch as this shaking and crying woman stepped onto the bus, and cried. You did nothing, theorising over why she was upset, instead of simply asking. You do this, because it’s better this way, for you.

Instead of making an impact, you sit and wait. You feel the rumble of the engine, you feel the bumps in the road. You can smell damp concrete wafting in from the open window, just above “Melody”. You focus on the music blasting in your ears so loud that it’s starting to ache. All until the bus comes to a screeching stop at your home, all until you follow the tracks of an excited dog and walk down the aisle of the bus. Until you step onto the wet stone on the ground and watch as the bus continues on. You see the woman's face one last time before turning around in the pouring rain. You continue your life, and don’t give this woman a second thought.