THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM.
It was barely past five o'clock, the darkness made it seem later. I have not been looking forward to traveling home for Christmas, but I had to or I would never hear the end of it from my mother. While sitting waiting for my bus to arrive, suddenly strolling into my vision a pair of old rubber boots, with well-worn black wool trousers tucked in, took a seat right across from me. High black rubber boots with metal clasps " I haven't seen such footwear since I forced my father to retire a pair of them he had inherited from his father years earlier. Without raising my eyes, I sensed what was connected to these boots and trousers, but slowly raised my eyes anyway and, sure enough, there sat a somewhat grizzly old man covered by an equally well-worn gray tweed overcoat, long black scarf, and black cap. Discreet as I tried to be, his eyes caught mine and he acknowledged me with a smile and a nod. Rendering the least inviting smile I could manage, I returned his greeting rather uncomfortably, then, returned to the safety of my book.
About a page and a half later, the call came across the public-address system " my bus was finally boarding. I gathered my things quickly and made my way to the door, relieved that I had escaped from the terminal before the odd-looking stranger bothered me or asked me for money. I started to board my train. The big coach had fewer than a dozen riders this night, so I was feeling glad I would have a double seat to myself as I stowed my suitcase overhead. Tucking myself into the window seat, I heard the squeak followed by the thump that signaled the driver had closed the door and was about to begin the two-hour trek home. Maybe I shouldn't read after all, I thought, as I slid my book inside my coat and closed my eyes to rest.
Just then, I heard a raspy voice directed my way: "Pardon me." I abruptly looked into the aisle and in the dim light saw the strange old man from the waiting area of the bus terminal standing over me.