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Story | Nov 06 2002

The woman in front of me on the bus has pieces of grass and little twigs in her hair. She’s wearing white, paint-splattered overalls and carrying a crumpled shopping bag. Why is she so disheveled? Her hair too is in disarray. She’s looking at people as they board. The left strap of her overalls has fallen over her shoulder. Now a pencil has appeared in her hand and I think she is writing with it. Her hair appears slept on or perhaps rolled around in. She’s tapping her pencil to her nose and gazing out the window.

Papers! I caught a glimpse of papers as she stood to exit.