Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2222192-A-World-Both-Big-and-Small/cid/3298567-A-woman-in-a-suit-sitting-under-a-bus-stop-on-h
You looked straight ahead and saw a woman who looked to be in her late forties sitting at the bus stop having what appeared to be a rather heated conversation on her phone. Her salt and pepper hair curled around her face, she was definitely one of those “cute when your angry” types.
You saw her hang up her phone with a disgusted look in her face. She dropped it in her purse as you made your way over to her. You safely arrived under the awning of the bus stop with relative ease, only getting a little wet in the process. You looked up to see the large woman lighting a cigarette, No doubt to ease her nerves after the tense phone call.
You tapped on her foot and yelled up to try to get her attention. She looked down, clearly not expecting to see a small. She looked down at you sternly, before easily reaching down and picking you up between her fingers.
She lifted you through the air rather swiftly, making you a little dizzy.
“What on earth are you thinking? There’s no small-friendly areas in this part of town. You could’ve been swept down a drain by the rain or stomped on,” she scolded you.
“I’m sorry,” you said. “I fell asleep on the train, and didn’t realize I’d missed by stop. By the time I figured out what happened, it had already taken off.”
“You young people are all the same, big or small. You need to pay more attention!”
“Yes ma’am,” you said. You watched as the giant woman took a drag off of her cigarette and pursed her lips. She blew her smoke slightly to your left, just missing you. You hated smoking, and let out a little cough.
“I can take you to a safer part of town, but it’s going to be a few hours. You gonna be fine with hanging out on my desk for a little while?” Her voice has lightened a little. You figured some of her anger had come from her phone call.
“Oh yes ma’am! Thank you!”
“And don’t call me ‘ma’am,’” she said. “I’m only 49. You can call me Jane.”
“Yes ma- uh, Jane. Thank you! I’m Mike.”
Jane took a final drag off of her cigarette and flicked it into a drain, one you imagine you could’ve been washed into by the rain. She dropped you in her purse and closed it.
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