Waiting for the bus

Spring was approaching; the weather gradually began to change from cold and rainy to sunny and cheerful. These were the first few days it has been like this. It was like a new start for Peter; the weather was divine and precious, he could not get enough of it, it seemed like it gave him power and superiority over every one else. As the days grew longer, so did the conversations the psychiatrist and the man had.

It was an ordinary day and as usual Peter was having a 5 o’clock interview with his psychiatric specialist. Every interview the crazy man has attended, he would always start from the beginning. This conversation appeared very interesting to the doctor, as this time the man was happy to talk about his dreams, although when he reached to the point where he left off last time, his smile contracted to it’s smallest dimension, his face became the most distressed it has ever been.

He stared longingly at the sunset and began to speak again: “I was only seven when this happened, it was a cold and rainy night, my grandmother and I were desperately waiting for my mother’s bus to arrive. It was extremely slippery and she fell, my dear granny, she hit her head on the concrete and hasn’t moved at all after that. I was petrified, all I did was stand in the dark and helplessly stare at my grandmother’s body. The rain poured even harder, hitting me in the face, blinding me from the reality. I didn’t feel pain; neither did I feel loss, all I had in my head was fear. Suddenly I saw a light and when the bus stopped, my mother came off and grabbed me tight, she was like an angel reaching for me into the darkness. After half realizing what happened she pushed me out of the way and kneeled in front of the old lady’s body, desperately trying to help. After a few minutes my mother managed to get my grandmother’s body onto the bus to take her to the hospital.

I was completely ignored. I saw as the passengers on the bus gathered around the old lady, trying to do what they can. I saw the bus driver running towards the front to drive the bus to the hospital. I wanted to get on but I couldn’t move I was still in shock; the bus drove off without me. Again I was left in the dark and rainy street; I stood there watching them leave as if that was the last bus to heaven, to warmth and comfort.” The room was motionless; you could hear nothing except for the birds singing before they go to sleep. Peter spoke again:” This really happened”.