The Little Boy and the Bus
The little boy, tearful, stepped onto the bus with his older brother. Without delay, he slid into a seat in the second row, right by the window. His dad leaned close, almost pressing his hand against the glass, and said goodbye with an exaggerated sad face. Behind him, his mom waved gently. The distance between the boy and his parents was only a few centimeters, but that thin pane of glass felt like it separated them forever. Now the boy was really crying. The bus attendant, calm and composed like someone who had seen this many times before, came over to fasten his seat belt. She didn’t try to comfort him. It was as if she knew this was a fear he had to face right now . The bus began to move, and the boy grew even more restless. His heart was racing, his tears streaming down his face like a river. The bus rolled past the first square, turned right, and suddenly—his parents were gone from sight. At that moment, he stopped crying. Quietly, he looked up at the attendant, his tears dry...