The bus stops, and I rush off, excited to see everyone I haven't seen in months. It's been forever, or so it seems.
I glance around, not seeing any familar faces or vehicles. I sigh, plopping myself down on a wooden bench. "They must be running late."
Maybe ten, twenty minutes pass. Everyone who had gotten off the bus with me had already either caught the next bus or had found their loved ones and left. Only I remain.
"Did I tell them the wrong time?" I ask myself, but I know I didn't.
It's been over an hour, and I'm still sitting there, on that same bench. I haven't moved much, I haven't gotten up. I sit and face ahead, hoping that the next car who passes will be them.
A police car passes. A few moments later, he passes again.
"Ma'am," he calls to be, rolling down his window. I jump. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Oh, no, sir," I respond. "They'll be here for me. They wouldn't let me down."
"Alright," he smiles at me, and I smile back. They'll be here.
Another hour passes. I watch people walk by, no familar faces.
Four hours, at least. My stomach is growling, but I have nothing to eat, nor a dollar to my name. Everything is either back at home, or gone. I have nothing.
I stay on the bench, not moving. Buses come and go, but I stay put. People don't talk to me; in fact, I don't think a single one even glanced at me. But I didn't mind. I'm not their responsibilty.
The last bus comes. The driver steps out. "This is the last bus, Miss. Are you planning on taking it?"
"Oh, no. I'm sure my family will be right here. I'm sure they're just running a little late. Emergencies happen."
"If you insist," he smiles sadly. "But I'm not sure you want to spend too much longer out here. It's dangerous for someone to be out, alone, after sunset."
"It won't be too much longer," I assure him. "They must have just messed up a.m. with p.m. They'll be here soon."
"Alright."
He leaves me, and I turn towards the street, smiling again.
It isn't long before the sun falls, and my family is still not to be seen. I'm growing impatient. Impatience is a virtue that no one, myself included, had ever liked in me. They must be trying to test me, a simple, friendly family test. I smile at the street. I'll wait for them.
The night passes, but I stay put. People rush around me, but they do not approach me. The early morning comes, and all the people begin to come home, whether from clubs, parties, work, even. I stay where I am.
A silhouette emerges, sitting next to me. But I don't turn. I know better than to make eye contact with strangers. It isn't until he speaks to me that I turn.
"Who are you waiting for?"
"My family. They'll be here soon."
"How long have you been waiting?"
"Probably almost 18 hours," I admit.
"And you stayed there?"
"Yup. They won't forget me. They'll never forget me."
"Aren't you hungry?"
"Of course, but i'm sure when I get home, they'll have a whole feast waiting for me."
"Have you called them?"
"I would have, but I have not a quarter to my name, let alone a phone of any kind. They had moved since I have been gone, and they haven't told me their number."
"What's a girl like you doing out here? It's a dangerous place."
"Life's a dangerous place, but I am never forgotten."
He smiles at me, before getting up and leaving. I watch him leave, but I never get up from my bench. Like a bird, people may go with the wind, but I am never forgotten.
