Unfinished Stories

For the past two weeks, I’ve been watching a well-dressed woman walk across my bridge. In the morning she walks north. In the evening she walks south. Going both ways, she drags two large wheeled suitcases. She’ll drag one about 20 yards, leave it, and then go back for the other one, and so on. She performs this leapfrog act every single day without fail. But the weirdest part is that they’re not always the same two suitcases.

Where is she going? What’s in the suitcases? They look heavy.

She doesn’t appear homeless. What’s her story? The harsh reality is it’s none of my business, and therefore I’ll never know. I’m not sure I even want to half the time.

Knowing would make me care. Knowing would make me want to help if she needs it. Knowing would require some sort of action on my part.

Nothing bugs me more than an unfinished story, but the world is full of them, isn’t it?

Author: The View from a Drawbridge

I have been a bridgetender since 2001, and gives me plenty of time to think and observe the world. View all posts by The View from a Drawbridge