One of the buses I used to take every so often goes through some more well-off areas and some less well-off areas — not rich, not poor, just maybe a few demographic groups apart — and these two women ended up next to each other in front of me on an otherwise nearly empty bus.
The woman on the right in the amazing embroidered jacket got on first, in one of the less well-off areas — again not a poor one by any means, not a ’hood, just a few blocks that showed the wear and tear of age and weather. In her right hand she was carrying three cloth tote bags stuffed full. She sat in that frontmost aisle seat.
The woman on the left got on later, as the neighborhood was just starting to spruce up a bit, hefting an old-style covered cloth pram past the farebox and edging past the woman in the embroidered jacket to take the window seat, parking the pram in front of the other woman.
Every few moments, the woman on the left would lean over in front of her seatmate and gently lift open the edge of the pram, peek in at her charge, and make a few cooing noises. The woman on the right would patiently lean into the aisle to give her seatmate the room to do that, maybe a little accommodating, maybe a little resigned, but not with any apparent frustration.
After a few peeks and coos, it was clear that the pram held not a baby but a cat. It hadn’t responded to the first coos, but it became quite chatty as its owner interacted as the bus rolled on.
A few minutes later, the woman in the embroidered jacket called out, “Driver, could you let me know when we get to the public aid office?” And her seatmate got very excited: “It’s here, it’s right here!” The woman in the embroidered jacket got up and stood by the door. “Not this stop,” said the woman with the cat in the pram, “but it’s coming up soon! You’ll see it from the street!”
As the bus passed more stops — with no public aid office in sight — the woman with the pram returned to her peeking and cooing, but suddenly reached up and pulled the cord to signal her stop. As the driver opened the front door, she got up and silently pushed the carriage past the other woman and off the bus. The door closed and the bus pulled away; the woman with the jacket turned around, not making eye contact with me or the woman a few rows behind me but looking off into the distance. A few minutes later, we pulled up to the stop outside the public aid office and she stepped off.
December 7, 2015. Google Nexus 6P cell phone, 4.67mm focal length (35mm equivalent: 26mm), f/2, 1/60, ISO 100.