I sit down on the bench at the bus stop, beside a young woman with dirty blonde hair. The cold air whips around, only a few weeks away from Christmas, and I notice her shiver slightly in her ripped, worn jacket
The bus arrives and we board. Most of the seats are full, so I end up sitting beside her near the back. I glance at her again, noticing her face, covered in freckles and red from the cold, with glasses covered in tape hiding her eyes. At her feet is a worn backpack, stuffed with a pet store shopping bag
I feel your eyes on me again, and look up, icy and annoyed Can I help you, or are you just staring for no reason?