People Watching

I sat on an almost dry bench outside a coffee shop on the campus of UT today. As I watched the interesting people come and go, these are the stories I saw:

It’s been raining for days. Quite appropriate weather if you ask her.

“Why are you so delusional?” her anger shouts into the phone. That same anger doesn’t allow her to listen to the response on the other end. It only watches and judges.

Her thoughts scowl at the passersby. “These people. They probably think I’m screaming at some unfaithful lover or roommate without rent money. If they only knew...they would probably just pity me. But it's their ignorance that really deserves pity.”

She picks at her black stockings. She stares.

She’s already been sad. She even bought
into the whole “everything happens for a reason” perspective that her so-called friends spewed. At least with that she saw the sun for a day or two. But now…now…They were so wrong.

Her empty face turns to the looming clouds overhead.

He walks slowly toward the street, checking his map and trying to read the small-printed name on the building across the street. “It shouldn’t be like this now,” he tells himself. “I’ve been here seven months. I should already know where this is.”

The girl with him poses a question that he cannot hear but can clearly understand. The oncoming truck whizzes past him on the busy street, splashing dirty puddle water on his new shoes. He realizes he is lost and finally asks her, “Are we on the right street? This map is going to get me killed.”

She laughs and takes his hand, happy to be able to help him, this person whom she loves. She knows that he has no understanding of the way she really needs his help. How will she tell him? Will he be happy to help her in return?

He smokes. Not because he wants to but because he has to. It is the only thing he has left now. She’s gone, and it’s quite clear she isn’t coming back. He begged, he pleaded. He cried, for God’s sake. Nothing.

He supposes it’s his own fault for getting involved with someone so heartless. But his mind keeps wandering back to those moments. The glint of her half-smile. The knowing look she gave when he explained his plan. Knowing, he thought, that this was finally it. Knowing that together they could make it happen.

But now he is alone. And so he smokes.

“A surprise?” she squeals into the phone. “I love surprises.”

People notice her not because her phone conversation can be heard from across the plaza, but because she bears noticing. Contentment pours from her every step. People notice.

She drops her bag, and the passersby wrangle for the opportunity to pick it up. Perhaps they will gain something from her glance, her thank you. One lucky man, fresh from his morning run, finally finds the handle and returns it to her. Her smile is electrifying.

She never stopped walking. For her it was as if the bag never fell.