STEVEN WEISSMAN

For a few sweet months, I rode your bus to Belltown on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The sight of your sly smile when I climbed aboard and you asked me how my day was, your attempted restraint in our brief chats, the lingering glow that carried me through the rest of the week until I saw you again... these were the highlights of my year. Outside of those precious 20 minutes each week, you had a life and a family and all the responsibilities of the world on your shoulders. After you told me you were moving away, I wrote you a note—a forlorn goodbye—and watched as the calendar ticked down to your last day. I couldn't bring myself to give you the letter. And when I got off the bus that last day, I knew I'd never see you again. My heart weighs heavy without you.


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