None of them cared that there was a pregnant woman standing with difficulty in the back or an elderly man clinging tightly to a metal pole. The bus slowed down again as it approached the stop near the downtown market. The stuck hydraulic door creaked open with a harsh squeal. “Come on, hurry up if you’re getting on,” the driver yelled, hanging out the side as he slapped the body of the bus.
From the curb, an old man was trying to board with great difficulty. His hair was completely white, his body thin, and he wore a plaid shirt whose color had faded, and dress pants that were too loose for him. His wrinkled hands trembled as he tried to reach the high handrail of the bus door. His steps were heavy and slow. Hey, old man, pick it up a little. The driver scolded him impatiently. We’re on a schedule.
He didn’t even get out to help the old man get on. The other passengers just glanced at him for a moment with annoyed looks before returning to their own business. There was no empathy for them. The slow old man was just an obstacle on their way to work.
The old man finally managed to get his foot onto the bus floor, breathing heavily. However, he had barely found something to hold on to when the impatient driver slammed on the accelerator. The bus shot forward abruptly. The old man’s frail body lurched backward. He lost his balance, “Watch out!” A woman near the door shouted. But even she didn’t move to help.
Stella, who saw what was happening from the middle of the aisle, reacted immediately, forgetting her own sorrow, forgetting her shame. Her humanitarian instinct took over. With agility, music, Stella pushed her way through the other passengers and caught the old man’s arm just before he fell backward toward the still open door. “Be careful, sir,” Stella exclaimed as she supported the old man’s weight with all her strength.
“Stella’s hands, gentle but firm, held the old man’s arm, saving him from a fatal accident. The old man seemed to be in shock, his face pale, his breathing ragged. He looked at Stella with eyes that still reflected the lingering panic. Thank you. Thank you, my dear,” he said in a horse, trembling voice.
Stella gave a small, sincere, and reassuring smile. “You’re welcome, sir. Hold on to me.” Then Stella looked around for an empty seat. Nothing. All the seats were taken. Her eyes fell on a young man sitting in the priority seat right in front of them, who had been engrossed in a game on his phone, oblivious to the commotion just moments before.
Excuse me, young man,” Stella called out in a soft but firm voice. “Could you please give your seat to this gentleman music? He can’t stand for long.” The young man looked up, glaring at Stella and the old man with an annoyed expression. He huffed in frustration as if Stella had just interrupted a crucial moment in his life. Reluctantly, with a sour face, the young man stood up without a word. He then moved to the back of the bus, grumbling under his breath.
Please sit here, sir,” Stella said as she gently guided the old man to the seat. She made sure he was comfortable before letting go. The old man let out a sigh of relief as his back touched the seat. He massaged his trembling knees. After feeling a bit calmer, he looked up at Stella, who was now standing beside him, holding on to the back of the seat.
“Thank you so much, my dear. If it weren’t for you, I might have rolled right out of the bus,” the old man said again. This time, Stella could see his face more clearly. Although wrinkles covered his face, there was a sharp yet serene look in his eyes. A strange dignity emanated from his simple figure, something that didn’t quite match the worn out clothes he was wearing.
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