donderdag 31 januari 2013

Gothic Tears

When I reach the bus stop I see her sitting on the small red bench, a bit shielded off from sight. Her black clothes, boots and hairdo give a big contrast with the red of the bench. Normally I greet people but this time I decide to remain silent. Words from me would disturb her; she seems to be texting on her mobile phone. Her raven black hair hides her face, but I can see the phone on her lap.

First I think she's is just sniffing, needs a tissue, but when I look again I can see her whole body shaking. The wind blows her hair in every direction and she gets it out of her face. She wears a nose ring and has two piercings through her lip, snakebites, I think. And big black tears run over her cheeks, her mascara completely ruined. I feel like a sort of intruder by watching her, but it really touches me. And I see, she's not typing a message herself, but reading a message over and over again. Sometimes she is pressing a button on the mobile phone to lighten the screen up again.

She seems so hurt and vulnerable, I feel like I should sit next to her and talk to her at least. A person in distress like this should have somebody to hold her and dry her tears. What is the matter? Her friend that broke off their relation in this cruel manner? Or a relative ill, maybe in hospital or even worse? While my mind is rambling on I see the bus approaching and I wave. The bus stops and I wait till she gets on. But she is not moving. I grumble something like You go first, but she shakes her head and stays where she is.

I get in and find a seat. When the bus rides away I can see she has started to cry again. I can't help but feel a bit guilty and her image stays on my mind the rest of the day.