She was like an oasis of quietude in an ocean of cacophony. Bent upon a book, meditating on the world that its gossamer words must have woven around her like a cocoon, she exuded a calm that did not pervade, neither did it intrude upon the bustle around her. It ensconced her like an eggshell – diaphanous but resilient to the corrosive voices, lending shape and providing nourishment to the life within its protective walls.
The early morning sun shone in on us through the windows of the bus. She was sitting one seat away from a window, on the aisle side, inclined slightly towards the window so that her face was almost hidden. Sunlight wove itself through the strands of her dark hair, illuminating them, bleaching them into a golden brown that gave her a halo alike angels in frescoes. She was a picture of meditation – unsullied, ethereal, otherworldly.
If her calm broke, so would that picture and something that beautiful did not warrant disturbance or desecration. Which is why even though the only vacant seat in the bus was next to her, by the window, I did not dare break her calm…
None of us did.
In response to the Daily Prompt Word – Slight
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