They sit upon the rock wall, shadows dancing at their feet. The strangers have stories, unique perceptions etched into their features.
The passing cars cause a multi-colored blur as I sneak glances at them.
One smokes a cigarette, legs crossed and hand in her pocket. Bags rest at her feet as she waits for the next bus that will take her to town. I see her strike up a conversation with the man next to her, hunched over his phone.
They speak briefly, and she hands him a cigarette. An interesting form of goodwill as they wait, connected by the need for something to warm their bones in the chilly weather as well as their need of a ride home.
His coat is over-sized, swallowing him up and casting a distorted shadow around his feet. The sun on his back, his face is hidden from me as I’m watching from the coffee shop window.
What stories do they have? What novels could they write with all the things that have happened in their lives? They are the ones who we must hear. They hold the keys to seeing society breathe new air.
Don’t miss the strangers on the sidewalk. They have something to say.
// December 22, 2018