bystanders

i boarded a london bus which soon passed an accident aftermath in the oncoming lane. a woman’s body slept between the front and rear wheels of a bus just like ours. her expression was serene, sleeping, a few pooled drops of blood. silent ambulance, no urgency, passers by gawking repectfully. everyone on the upper deck of the bus stood for a better view and silently observed. just an ordinary woman, young, a little chunky, blue jeans, black backpack. where had she been headed? how did she manage to fall under the wheels of that bus? what was she planning to do with her life? our traffic slowed but didn’t stop, and soon the scene slid from view. everyone sat down. a woman wept discreetly. in a few moments we arrived at a major tube station and everyone got off, meeting eyes with furtive glances, subtle nods. the young driver appeared dazed, anxiously watching everyone de-board, how easily it could have been any bus. no passengers acknowledged him, a silent rebuke, like ‘you drivers should pay more attention’. i offered a salute which he accepted with a nod, slightly wild eyed. all those hundreds of pedestrians swirling around with no idea, swiping transit cards beeping the robot turnstiles, gliding into a steep, metallic escalator, descending mechanically into the subterranean coolness of the metro, same as everyday.