The Waiting Game

Mara sat quietly on the long wooden bench at the bus park, her backpack tucked

between her feet and her hands resting on her knees. The sun was

warm but not harsh, and the afternoon breeze carried the sound of distant

chatter. Buses came and went, stopping briefly. People rushed in,

filtered out, laughed, complained, checked their phones, disappearing into their

own destinations. Mara stayed, patient, or at least she tried to

be. She watched shadows shift and wondered if waiting was supposed to feel

this lonely.