The Man at the Bus Stop, true story
Posted on: November 6, 2009, at 02:14:23pm

It was a cold night on Saturday. The wind was blowing softly whistling a relaxing tune in my ear. I was sitting at the bus stop with an older man in San Francisco. He surely didn’t smell good and looked semi homeless. His hair was white and he had a dirty beard that curled in places that dug into his skin. The man’s eyes were a light blue that gazed at you and had a story to tell. He was wearing black torn gloves on his hands and was holding what looked like a shopping bag in his left hand. He wore a green hat and a giant puffy jacket that looked extremely warm. In his jacket were two zippers on one side and a pocket on the right with an old ballpoint pen. His pants were baggy and of a dark color and his shoes were torn with his two front toes sticking out. He smelt like old fish and someone who has been through the trenches.

While we were sitting he was telling me war stories voluntarily. I got freaked out because his voice was deep but had softness to it. He was graphic with his stories explaining how the bullet went into his side and how he survived. I didn’t really want to hear, but the more he talked the more interested I became. I mean here was a man, who has lived life longer than me and has experienced life in a whole new way. He probably values the gift of life way more than any other person on this planet. When the bus finally swooshed by us, he just sat there unbothered that the bus he has finally been waiting for arrived. I tapped him on the shoulder just to make sure he wasn’t sleeping or anything. His eyes looked half closed but his heart was warm and open. The wrinkles on his face were expressionless and didn’t move when he smiled nor laughed. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t cheery at all. He had a toothpick in his mouth that kept moving up and down as he was talking. Sometimes he would take it out to explain a long sentence or just twirl it around his torn gloves. When he finally stood up. He was very slow. The way he walked was bothersome. He treaded on the ground moving one foot at a snail’s pace to get to the bus. As he was walking he searched in his pockets for change and I saw him pull out nickels, then dimes, then quarters. While he waited in the line to pay, he just jingled them in his hands pretending they were like an instrument.

It was a most peculiar night, and I decided not to get on that bus, but as he left I could still hear the jingling of the coins echo out through the night.

1. 1: Chasing leprechauns
   Posted at 3:51pm on November 6th, 2009

   It is like everyday life but when you put it in a story like that it sounds awesome.
2. 2: crazykitty66
   Posted at 6:02pm on November 6th, 2009

   Haha +)
3. 3: Gummi Bear
   Posted at 9:09pm on November 7th, 2009

   =O I wanna write awesomesauce stuffs.
4. 4: crazykitty66
   Posted at 9:12pm on November 7th, 2009

   Do ET
5. 5: iKitsune
   Posted at 7:16pm on November 14th, 2009

   Wow... Amazing Story :o