Alex sat by the window on the bus, earbuds in, letting the music drown out the clatter around them. They found it strange, really—the way people seemed so intent on keeping their heads down, buried in their phones, missing everything happening right in front of them. The bus felt like a small world of its own, everyone in their own bubbles, absorbed in something distant, something unreal.
Beside them, Emma appeared, gazing thoughtfully out the window, her presence gentle and quiet as ever. "You think about this a lot, don't you?" she asked, her voice breaking through their thoughts. Alex looked at her, surprised, then nodded. "It's strange… how people seem to care so deeply about some things but ignore others right in front of them."
They shifted, turning to face her. "We save animals, creatures that have nothing to do with us, things we don't actually need but would feel the loss of if they were gone forever. Isn't that beautiful?" Alex mused, watching as Emma's eyes softened, listening intently as she always did. "But we don't do the same for each other. We hurt each other every day, and it's like… maybe we're too self-absorbed to even notice."
Emma nodded, considering. "Maybe people see the beauty in animals because they can be protected without judgment, without expectation. But with people, it's harder. We hold so many expectations, so many judgments—it makes it hard to just… protect." She let the words linger, giving Alex the space to let them sink in.
A pause filled the space between them, and Alex looked out the window again, noticing a man by the bus stop, his head down, absorbed in his phone. He was so focused he didn't even look up when the bus arrived. Alex watched, a faint twinge of irony creeping in. How could he miss it? they thought. How could he not be aware of something so obvious, so right in front of him?
The bus began to pull away, and as it rounded the corner, Alex saw the man finally look up, his expression shifting from indifference to panic as he sprinted toward the bus, too late. The sight struck Alex in a strange way, a stark example of everything they'd been thinking about. "It's like everyone's drifting," Alex said softly, "moving through life without even looking up."
Emma smiled, a soft, understanding smile that didn't judge, didn't push. "It's hard to look up sometimes, Alex. Maybe people don't want to see too much of what's really there." Her words hung in the air, quiet but sharp, and Alex felt a pang of recognition.
They turned away from the window, looking at her, feeling that strange sense of comfort and conflict all at once. "I don't want to be like that," they murmured, "just… drifting." Emma's gaze softened, her hand hovering near theirs, a silent reassurance. "And you don't have to be," she replied. "You see the world, Alex. You're already different, and that's… beautiful, even if it feels heavy."
The bus rattled on, taking them through the streets that now seemed empty, people passing by like ghosts, unaware of everything they were missing. And Alex sat there, wondering if Emma was right, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a way to be here—to really be here—without falling into the same obliviousness.