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The Girl on the Bus

I saw her every morning, First at her stop and then on the bus. She always took the same seat, No one really made a fuss.

I asked my mother about her, She said we played together as kids. I don’t think I remembered her then, I guess we both found better things.

She had a lot of friends, They joined her at the last stop. They got down with her at the end, They tried to make her laugh a lot.

Her friends are really great, And I couldn’t really understand. The transformation I had seen, Was something I could not understand.

I thought of approaching her, But what could I possibly say? “We played together when we were younger.” What if she didn’t remember me?

One morning when she got on, She looked in my direction. And smiled sadly before she sat down, Something deep inside me wept.

At home, I found a box filled with pictures, Of her and me at play. And scrawny handwritten letters, That really made my day.

The next day on the bus, Her seat remained empty. I clutched a picture of us, I would talk to her the next time.

At the last stop, a boy got on, But the bus didn’t start . He made his way in, gave me something, And returned to the footpath.

I observed what was in my hand, It was a picture of her and me. Playing together in the sand, It said, “I don’t know if you remember me.”

I held it close and cried, When I got home, I heard the news. And then I think I cried all night, And cursed that she could win her fight.

The next day, like her, I didn’t get on the bus Instead, I went to get to know her again, To see her and leave her a picture of us, To say goodbye, to an old friend.

Everyone there was dressed in black, There to mourn her eternal sleep. I wanted to run out of there and back, But I stayed, hugged myself and started to weep.

I took the picture I had found, And left it there with her other things. It said, “I didn’t think you would remember me.” I took one last, long look at her, And before I could cry, I took my leave.

-Rebecca Koshy

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