Yesterday, on my way home, I stopped at a local gas station for fuel. There was a small silver-colored car at the next pump, passenger side to me, and the driver, a young man, was pumping gas.
As I waited for my tank to fill, I noticed the passenger in the car: a young woman, at first facing away from me, with her head leaning back against the headrest.
A few minutes later, she turned a little, enough for me to tell that she was crying. I could see her face was flushed, and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
The young man finished pumping gas, got in the car, and they drove away.
And I wondered: why was she crying?
Had they had an argument?
Had she been verbally abused?
Was she, as Motor Man later suggested, on her way home from a doctor’s appointment where she’d gotten bad news?
Or perhaps she had just gotten word of a death in the family?
Lost a cherished pet?
I doubt our paths will cross again, so I won’t ever know the cause of her tears. I can only hope it was the “least bad” of all the possibilities.
” Be kind; we don’t know what battles others are fighting.” (unknown)
~These Days Of Mine~
