Five weeks ago, sitting on the short bus that brings me home from the train station every night, I watched a woman die.
When I entered the bus she came running from inside the train station and the driver waited for her. There were a few people at the front of the bus but none in the back. I sat alone in the back seat and watched as the middle-aged woman dug through her purse. Every few moments she seemed to speak. I thought she was just talking to the driver.
Finally she pulled the electronic ticket out of her pocket, the beep announced that she had been charged, and she made her way towards the back of the bus.
While walking down the gangway she kept throwing glances at the other people sitting in the bus. And I realized that she hadn’t been talking to the driver – she kept murmuring to herself. The woman slumped into a window seat two rows in front of me. I was the only one behind her. Her murmurs grew louder. Continue reading