Hes got the saddest eyes Ive ever seen, and as he gets onto the train, I cant help but say a prayer for him. I hope hes going somewhere nice. Maybe hes going home to visit his mother.
He looks like hes coming back from some stressful business meeting. Is that possible? Its late at night and all the regular offices closed hours ago. But hes got a heavy-looking briefcase overflowing with dog-eared papers. And hes wearing that severe black suit that looks very sharp but doesnt really seem fitting next to his childlike face.
His hair is cropped short. The cuts looks fresh and unfamiliar, like it was only yesterday that he was a long haired child running in the golden summer sunlight. But tonight isnt about summer frolicking. Its about haircuts and business suits and first days of school.
The bus lurches around a corner. I grab the overhead pole a little tighter as I, along with all of the other passengers, swing to the side. A sharp corner of the sad eyed mans briefcase jabs into my leg. He immediately apologizes. As the words no problem roll off my tongue, I relive the past second. Then again. And again. And again. His voice whispered with a gentle innocence that is rare to hear in anyone, least of all in a grown man. And his tone was so sincere. He was genuinely apologizing for his stray briefcase potentially hurting me. This was no run of the mill instant reaction or please dont be mad at me staged politeness. This was real.
Sometime before the end of the ride, we make eye contact. His eyes are wide like a young childs, the irises a pale milky blue. He looks as though he had been crying a short time ago; the redness having subsided but the emotional residue still present.
I think, Cheer up, Buddy. Youll be okay. I smile at him but he doesnt respond. Hes got the saddest eyes in the world. I hope hes going somewhere nice.