While perusing a book by Hunter S. Thompson, I looked up, after the train stopped on the blue line stop at Grand, and watched as an elderly lady with a walker take her seat in close proximity to the train car's doors, next to a young lady in blue, texting away whatever important business that is of hers. The two had managed to talk for a bit, with some idle talk being exchanged to other passengers that were near them. Except me since my head was hunkered over the book nearly the whole time.
She seemed kind and meant well. There was an obvious issue with her back, which explains the involvement of the walker. And such a sweet and soft voice that it ringed like Misses Gump.
When her stop arrived, her slow venture from the seat to the metal doors was met with trouble: the train's operator was apparently blind to her condition (we were in the last train car) and continued to seal the doors off while she was in the middle of making her exit. She got caught in-between them. In the spurt of the moment, my instincts to help her were cut short when two men caught quick notice to Misses Gump and pulled the doors apart. It was a success. One of the Good People looked out from the car and toward the conductor with such contempt that a high school bully would have his dreams crushed if the attacked victim were to return the favor.
Misses Gump turned out to be okay in the end, seeing as it were a minor accident altogether. I watched her walk away before I returned to Thompson's world.
I named her Misses Gump because her voice emulated the softness that is Sally Field's.
No comments:
Post a Comment