to head for the stairspublished: 2011-02-04
On that same bus, a different woman enters. Her shoulders are slumped forward, her eyes droop. Her mouth is half open. She is not entirely compos mentis. She shifts from left to right, looks around and so I ask whether she needs help getting into the now empty chair next to me. She mumbles something and sits down. We arrive at the station. Now I ask whether this is her stop. She doesn’t seem sure but suddenly gets up and steps out. I watch to make sure she’s heading somewhere specific. This is when I discover she is following a man. He must have been on our bus too, but I hadn’t noticed him. At all.
She follows the man as they weave through the busy station. Her distance from him is approximately 1 meter. It stays remarkably fixed, as if she were on a leash. In fact, she truly does looks like a big huge puppy-dog. I follow them towards a different bus-area. I wonder whether he’ll look back at her. He doesn’t. Not once.
One person cuts their bond by walking between them for a bit. The puppy-dog woman is about to panic, she is not sure whether to overtake that person. This would mean literally rubbing up against the man she is following. Her husband?
What if she were to suddenly turn left? To head for the stairs. To step on a train. To disappear.