Winter

She won’t stop crying. I’ve been sitting here, watching her emotional stability fall apart in a span of fifteen minutes, and she just can’t stop crying. Maybe her boyfriend just broke up with her. How sad is it that my first thought after seeing a girl cry is that a boy had to be part of it? Maybe I’m sexist; maybe that’s why she’s crying. Maybe I’m just realizing what she’s known for fifteen minutes. Her shoulders are shaking, though. It’s a scared cry, not a heartbroken one. She’s been sitting down, hunched over for awhile. Maybe I should go over there. No, that would be weird, wouldn’t it? I don’t even know her. She’d probably think I was a creep. That’s sad, too. Random acts of kindness are often misinterpreted as sinister. That’s our world’s biggest problem. Well, it’s a big one, anyway. God, I’m tired. Watching her cry is exhausting…I can’t imagine what it’s doing to her. Those kinds of tears only come around once in awhile.

I bet she’s lonely. That’s why I cry. Not because all human beings are ultimately alone, but because I’m alone. Maybe she has a secret that she can’t tell anyone. Maybe if I went over there she could tell me, and then she wouldn’t be so alone anymore. I won’t, but it’s a nice thought. That bench really doesn’t look very comfortable, either. I wonder why she isn’t crying in her house or at least indoors. She might not have a place indoors to cry. She could be homeless or has such a big family that she never has any time to herself. Then her loneliness would laugh at her even more, mocking her with all of the people she could talk to, but really she can’t. I wish she would stop crying, and then maybe I could leave. I can’t just leave her there, crying. I can’t just ignore her like all of these people who walk by as if nothing strange is going on. I’ll just have to sit here and stare a bit longer, because that’s more humane.

What if she never gets up? She could freeze to death out here. She’s not dressed very warmly. I should give her my scarf or something. It’s been at least half an hour now. That’s a long time to sit and cry in public. I’m not even sure she knows where she is. She hasn’t looked up in a long time, and even then there was almost nothing behind her eyes, at least not from where I’m sitting. I wish I had the guts to just sit and cry in public. But I guess it’s not about guts, is it? I think she’s just losing it. Not in a crazy way, she’s just so overwhelmed. I hate that feeling. It’s like you’re drowning, and there’s heaviness on your heart. Maybe someone is drowning you and the heaviness is his or her hand shoving you back into the water. Yeah, that’s what it feels like.

A boy is doing what I’m doing – staring at her. I think he’s going to talk to her. Wow, I should’ve thought of that. He gave her some Kleenex. That’s a handy thing to have in your pocket, especially in winter. That’s the kind of person I should be. He stopped, gave her the Kleenex and walked away. Well, I hope I will be someday. I guess for now I’m just the kind of person who will sit and worry about a total stranger for an hour. I guess I’m okay with that person too. Well, she’s using the Kleenex. That’s progress. I still can’t leave, though. When she walks away, I will too. I’m just going to sit here a bit longer, just in case. I don’t mind waiting.