Move

It was hard to see, with the bright sun splashing light in his eyes, he was trying to look out of the window. The bus kept going forward, and he couldn’t look behind anymore. Like his own reflection he saw everyone walking, there was some people standing across the street, the wind moving their hairs, eyes tight watching everything, some hands were together, some lay down with nothing in it. He looked his own hands, they were apprehensive, and there was no one on his side. He turned his head back to the window, saw all the moving and the ones standing still, waiting. Waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t wait, he thought. Not anymore.
The sit was not comfortable, his book kept loosing his attention every five seconds. The smell in the air was familiar, he had done this too many times. Often his memories get caught with a special perfume, a fragrance of time, he used to call. Often that time came back to be remembered. Is that what we call learning from experience? It could be.
It was a time to forget, lose the weight around the shoulders. Wish that maybe someday he could come back a new person.
“You need to be a little bit too far from your home and watch it from a mile away”, like the song said.
Sometimes it’s the only option, he thought — move.

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