The Lady and The Moth.

It was a hot day and I had somewhere to rush off to, so I kept looking out of my window at the places my bus was going past at an unusually slow speed while I skipped past half my usual playlist because no song seemed to be the sound my ears wanted to listen to.

Then, I saw her.

The bus I was on halted to a stop to pick up passengers at the bus stop she was at, and she was just there.

Still, breathing and serene. Just sitting there patiently. She had a very faraway look on her face and her eyes were glassy. She absentmindedly started stroking her red wallet and was swinging it by its keychain after a while.

Looking into the distance for her bus, maybe. Preoccupied with thoughts that she managed to keep from showing on her face, maybe. Simply tired and wanting to go home, maybe.

Maybe.

A tiny moth – brown, weak and plain – flew into the frame and landed on the strap of her handbag that has already fallen off her thin shoulder. After fluttering its wings for a second or two, it stayed planted at the spot it has chosen comfortably.

She did not even flinch or move. I do not think she even noticed it, really.

She was still looking into the distance and swinging her wallet back and forth, hoping that time will pass faster or the rhythm of the swings will keep her distracted from the bigger worries she had.

And at that moment, for some strange reason, I started imagining her being covered entirely in butterflies and moths of sorts, while her mind was elsewhere. Flying towards her one by one, eventually resting on her warm body, until you cannot see her or her clothes anymore.

All you will see are colours, patterns and shapes of wings by the foreign beautiful insects I am incredibly afraid of. But you can still feel her presence – calm and still. And if you look closely enough, you can see the gentle pulsing of her body as she breathes. Everything else fades into the background and all is quiet and you just really focus on her.

And that was a beautiful thought that just stayed on my mind. Until the bus drove away. Until I could no longer see her. Until I can hear the song on my iPod touch playing again.

Now, I am just wondering if she ever noticed the moth on her bag before her bus came or if she just took it along with her unknowingly on her journey home.

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