Everybody has a story

I caught the trolley with less than a minute to spare. I seem to be doing that lately. At least the trolley wasn't early today otherwise I would have been waiting until the 9am trolley to come along and I would be late. But that didn't happen. I was on time and tired already. The people around me seemed to be just as tired. I looked around at the quiet people and it got me thinking. What is their story? Everybody has a story so what is theirs? I wondered whether some of them had even been asked before.

A man sat on the other end of the trolley car and he was holding a small child that looked very tired. The man looked outside with an upset look on his face almost like he had sacrificed something to be where he was. He only cheered up when the child woke up and pointed to the planes and airport as the trolley drove on.

An old man sat a few booths down from me. He looked around with a somewhat dazed expression on his face. Over his left eye he wore a big white bandage. As he looked around and then out the window he gripped onto his seat.

A woman sitting across the walkway from me was wearing a baggy sweatshirt with her hood up. One of her knees were bouncing and she kept her head down. When she looked up for a moment I saw that her sad eyes were red.

A young man boarded the trolley and he sat down in an empty booth. He put one foot on the bench opposite of him and put his face in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment and then rubbed his face. He ran his fingers through his really short hair and then looked out the window.

As I got off the trolley to go to class I wondered about the people I saw and what their stories were. I wondered what they were going through and what brought them on the trolley.

On my way home it was crowded as usual and I sat across from a young man and young woman. I wondered about the young woman. Her hair was dark with small streaks of color randomly placed and she was wearing light blue eyeshadow. She looked almost unhealthy skinny which I wouldn't have guessed from her face but she was wearing shorts and her legs were very thin. She talked with the guy about different things, including college classes and then she admitted that she was only 16. She said that she had tested out of high school and was taking college courses. I was surprised but I didn't want to show that I had heard her. When I transferred at Old Town I got to thinking more about people's stories. We all know so little about each other and yet the riders of the trolley share the common space on the trolley as they go to their destination. I suppose the whole idea of this entry is that you never know who you may be sitting next to on the trolley and everybody has a unique story.

Until the next ride,
Alana