Good Samaritan

I was sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the 6 oí clock to arrive, and I was dozing soundly, my head resting against the seat. My dreams were strange, visions of ice and shadows that chased after me, and of an evil ceremony. As I dreamt, my unconscious mind decided that I would be cutting down on fantasy books for a while.

"Hey, the bus is here," a man said, his voice breaking into my dreams and pulling me out of a light doze. I looked around groggily, my eyes gritty from lack of sleep, and focused on the man who had spoken.

He was standing a few feet in front of me, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder, and extending a hand in my direction. Blushing, I quickly grabbed my bookbag and took his hand, grateful for his help.

"Thanks," I said softly, trying hard to stop my cheeks from flushing. He was in his 20ís, around my age, with short dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and a very pleasant smile. He smiled back at me and entered the bus, handing his ticket to the bus driver. I entered behind him and fished my ticket out of my purse, grateful that I had not lost it.

"Had a long day, Miss?" the busdriver asked, looking at me with a vague look of concern. He was an elderly man wearing a flannel jacket, and I smiled wearily, trying my hardest to look alert and happy.

"Oh, Iím fine, thanks," I replied before hastily finding a seat. I tossed my bag onto the seat next to me and sat down with a sigh of relief, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. I noticed that the glass I was leaning on was a little dusty, but I didnít care. I just wanted to sleep again in an attempt to shave off some of my exhaustion.

I had just finished my 7th semester in college and was eager to get home for break. Weeks of greuling finals and hard work were rounded off soundly by breaking-up with my long time boyfriend, who claimed that neither of us had enough time together due to large amounts of school work.

"Uh, MissÖ. MissÖ?" the same voice from the bus station spoke again. I turned to see that the man was sitting in the seat across from me, holding my bookbag. He hastily placed it on my seat.

"It fell," he said simply, turning back around in his seat to face forward again. It was hard to tell in the dim lights of the bus, but it looked like he was blushing. I moved the bookbag to the floor against the wall.

"Thanks. Iím Tara," I said, trying to learn his name in exchange. He turned back towards me and smiled, then extended his hand and shook mine.

"Mike. Nice to meet you," he said, his hazel eyes locked on my blue ones.

"Thanks for waking me up earlier. If it wasnít for you, Iíd probably still be back at that bus stop right now," I said, feeling a little embarassed that I had fallen asleep earlier.

"Not a problem. Just doing my job," he said with a twinkle in his eye. I looked at him, puzzled.

"Your jobÖ?" I asked, one eyebrow lifted. He just chuckled a little and made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Oh nothing, nothing... just being a good samaritan, I suppose," he said, smiling broadly. I smiled with him, and feeling that the conversation had ended, turned back in my seat.

We didnít speak much after that conversation, and soon we had arrived at the bus station. He exited the bus before me, owing to the fact that I had to pry my bookbag loose from where it had lodged firmly underneath my seat.

As I stepped into the isle, I noticed something lying on Mikeís seat.

"Hey Mike! You forgot your..." I began to call out before realizing what it was that lay on the seat. It was a beautiful white feather, almost as long as my forearm. I picked it up, smiled, and went on my way, feeling that a great amount of stress had been lifted from my heart as I began walking home from the bus stop.

Good Samaritan, indeed, my friend... I thought, smiling. Good Samaritan indeed...