The old man sits down across from me. After a few moments he speaks, to no one in particular. I don't acknowledge it, just put on my headphones and turn up the volume.
He sits there staring off into space. I find myself aping his expression. A part of me wants to reach out to him. I imagine my father, and hope someone in the same situation would not just sit there and ignore his lonliness.
But I am too wrapped up in my own to try and ease someone else's pain. So I sit quietly listening to the droning voice of Bob Dylan, silently wishing the old man would go away.
When he does, I find my lonliness has increased.
1 comment:
Awwwww LD, I understand what you mean. Gar, I'm gettin' all misty at work here thinkin' 'bout lonely people on trains.
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