He sits there everyday waiting for the bus.
The other kids are huddled together, performing all the shenanigans kids do as they wait for the bus as well.
This kid is alone.
He always looks despondent, disconnected from the others, almost as if carrying the weight of the world is his purpose in life.
He can’t be more than ten or eleven.
Ten or eleven shouldn’t know the weight of the world, shouldn’t know burdens so heavy that sadness colors his aura.
Every morning I want to stop and talk to him.
I want to ask him what is wrong.
I drive by and make a mental note to observe more carefully tomorrow as maybe I’m misreading the situation.
Maybe he’s just tired.
Maybe he didn’t have a good breakfast.
Maybe he doesn’t want to go to school.
But every morning it is the same.
Apart from the rest.
Speaking to not a soul around him.
Reminds me of someone I used to know.
He turned out fine.
He made it through.