The Driver’s Dilemma

Behind the wheel, the driver clenched his jaw. He’d seen this kind of scene before — the world rushing too fast for compassion to catch up.

He could lower the ramp, yes. But that meant getting out, securing it, assisting her, and explaining the delay to thirty irritated commuters. A small eternity in city time.

He sighed, glanced in the mirror again, and felt the weight of his own hesitation.

The woman looked up then — just for a moment — and their eyes met.
In hers, he saw not frustration, not even shame, but something quieter: a plea she didn’t speak aloud. Please… not this time. Don’t look away.

And yet, his hand inched toward the door lever, ready to close it. Schedules were strict.

Then a voice came from behind him.

“Wait.”

 The Stranger Steps Forward

From the back of the bus, a young man rose — mid-twenties, maybe, wearing a faded gray hoodie and carrying a heavy backpack. His coffee cup sloshed as he moved down the aisle.