The Observer – Writing in Progress

“You took the bus? Weren’t you the only non-native person riding?” Isabel is shocked to learn that the observer rides busses. The look of concern, if not outright horror, on her face makes it clear that this is one thing about the city which she has never learned. “I could have sent my driver for you. Weren’t you afraid of being robbed?” Robbed. On a crowded bus. It could happen, she thinks, remembering the young man who insisted on vacating his seat for her. The man jumping on and off busses all day to earn enough cash to survive. The old lady bending with the weight of her huge shopping bags as she climbed the steps to board. It could happen...