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  • Writer's pictureThe Human Book Collection

Morning Commute

As I sat on the 5C on my way to school, my eyes darted, glancing at those around me.

There were the students in the back with the headphones in their ears, eyes glazed as they look out the window and watched the world pass by. Perhaps they’re feeling homesick, thinking about the next time they’ll be able to visit their friends and family.

There was the elderly woman sitting near the front, her frail fingers wrapped tightly around the handles of her grocery bag. Perhaps she’s looking forward to preparing dinner for her grandchildren who have finally decided to come visit her after all these years.

There was the group of friends in the middle, seated in a row, animatedly chatting amongst themselves about their weekend plans. Perhaps they were all alone when they came to McMaster, but found solace in each other and have stuck together ever since.

Who were they? I wondered. Not just where they were going, but why? What was their story? A myriad of unanswered questions swirled in my head.

The bus speaker system announced my stop, breaking me out of my reverie.

Guess I’ll never know.

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