One of the favorite things about going to a college that was 45 minutes away from my home was the ride. Each morning, I'd see different faces on the sidewalks, bus stops, at signals and in rushing automobiles. People standing impatiently at a bus stop raising their wrists to view the watch that seems to tick just a little faster in the morning and looking out for their ride, dads grabbing the hand of their children all clad in neatly pressed uniforms rushing across the street to put them safely in their vans, beggars- the same ones, everyday asking for money in the same way at the same signals, all week long.
I look at these people and think what's there story? I ache to know sometimes. If each person I see on the street every morning decided to pen down their story, imagine what an exciting world would it become! For I know for a fact that everybody has a story...it's just waiting to be written.