She felt torn as she took peeks at the guy across the train. Based on his looks, she guessed he was somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two – undergrad age. She couldn’t stare for too long or he might catch her, but each sniffle drew her eyes back. She was concerned for him. Each time she glanced his way, she could see the skin around his eyes turning the slightest pink, a sure sign he was fighting tears. His eyes were bloodshot and the muscles in his neck tensed as he furiously blinked.
What could be wrong? Did he lose a loved one? Did his significant other end things? Was he now jobless and trying to figure out how to make ends meet? Did a beloved pet pass? Was he simply someone who got emotional when listening to a song or watching a movie or reading a book?
She didn’t know, but she said a prayer for him in her mind. Lord, whatever is happening in his life, give him comfort. No one should have to go through pain alone. Why do men have to hide their emotions? Why does it have to be a sign of weakness? Lord, let him be himself and help us change this world for the better. Should I talk to him? Smile at him? I don’t know what to do to help him, Father. Please be with him. Amen.
More people boarded the train, blocking her view of him for the most part, deciding for her. She got off at her stop, regret filling her heart that she hadn’t gotten up the courage to step up. Her thoughts stayed with him as she left the station.
Back on the train, he picked up a black duffel bag with the letters “FBI” stamped on the side. As the train rolled to a stop, he stepped gingerly toward the doors. When the brakes shrieked their protest and the train rocked to a sudden stop, and he followed a few others down the steps. He walked the two blocks to his apartment building and entered one on the first floor. He hung his keys on a hook by the door, dropped the black duffel bag on the floor, and shouted out, “Hey, Mom, I’m home from the Academy! Today was awesome.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “We had the beauty of pepper spray. Tomorrow, we get to experience tasers. I’m going to go run my eyes under the faucet. I think some chick thought I was crying on the train.”
Brittany Stonestreet 