The rough faux leather of the bus seats rubbed against the backs of the passengers as they were jostled up and down in a rhythmic pattern. It was silent, for lack of conversation among strangers. Music players and books were drawn out of backpacks.

A fairly short, grungy man with long stringy hair sat down next to an elderly woman clutching a handbag. He cleared his throat, as if deciding whether or not to speak.

“It’s a nice day today,” he grunted self-consciously.

The lady looked over for a second, as if mildly surprised that someone had broken the silence. ”...Yes,” she said at length.

“I’m on my way to the shelter,” the man continued, seemingly uncaring who heard.

“Granddaughter’s.”

“That’s wonderful…”

Suddenly, as if a switch was turned, all the passengers began to reveal their lives to everyone else.

“I found Jesus this morning.”

“I’m apprehensive about my son leaving the home.”

“I’m leaving for Iraq this September. I don’t want to go.”

Conversation continued, and the bus rattled on.