Wednesday, May 25, 2005
the right road to somewhere
"i've often wondered..". he leans, earnestly, toward them as he stamps their tickets.
"what colour hair do you actually have?"
their fingers fly uncertainly to their framed faces, and they pluck at their austere headwear, too anxious at the unexpected question to see the twinkle in his eye.
"reddish", replies one, politely.
"black", adds the other. they quietly take their seats.
"and hello to you!", he greets the elderly woman tilting her rollator laboriously into the bus, "off to the disco again, i see?"
she giggles and swats his hand, and the two veiled girls, overhearing, realise, relieved, that they have not been singled out at all: they have been treated as equally as anyone anywhere could hope to be.
in retrospect, and finally - for that was his sincere intention - they smile.