chica en bus
Many years ago, around 2015, I was traveling from Santo Domingo to Quito. The trip there was normal, but what truly stayed in my memory was the return journey from Quito back to Santo Domingo.
I remember there was a girl on the bus, just a teenager, wearing a white cap. I met her while we were buying our tickets. If I remember correctly, she had been accompanied by her mother, although she eventually boarded the bus alone. I sat on the left side, while she sat a few rows ahead on the right.
We did not talk much, only a brief and simple conversation, yet somehow it remained in my memory. I especially remember that during the trip she felt sick, as if she was about to vomit. At times, I simply looked at her in silence, the way people sometimes observe strangers they briefly cross paths with before disappearing from their lives forever.
When we got close to Santo Domingo, I got off at my usual stop, but she continued on her journey. I never saw her again and never learned anything more about her. Still, the memory stayed with me in a strange way — not because it was extraordinary, but precisely because it was so ordinary and fleeting. Sometimes, certain people appear in our lives for only a moment, yet they leave behind a feeling that is difficult to explain.