“You sure?” he said kindly. “Yes, thank you,” I repeated. I risked a look at his face.
He had very gentle eyes, the same delicate shade of green as newly emerged buds on trees.
“Just taking a wee moment, hen?” He patted me on the arm. “Everybody needs to take a wee moment to themselves now and again, eh?”
He smiled, full of warmth, and stood up to leave. The bus was slowing down. “Thanks!” I called after him.
He didn’t look round, but raised a hand in salutation, trousers riding up past his bare ankles as he left.
He wasn’t mad. He just didn’t have any socks on. Eleanor, I said to myself, sometimes you’re too quick to judge people.
There are all kinds of reasons why they might not look like the kind of person you’d want to sit next to on a bus,
but you can’t sum someone up in a ten- second glance. That’s simply not enough time.
The way you try not to sit next to fat people, for example. There’s nothing wrong with being overweight, is there?
They could be eating because they’re sad, the same way you used to drink vodka.
They could have had parents who never taught them how to cook or eat healthily.
They could be disabled and unable to exercise, or else they could have an illness that contributes to weight gain despite their best efforts.
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