Coming home

City lights dance across the dashboard as he drives back, eyes tired, stare blurry. It’s been a long day and he can’t wait to get home. Even if the apartment is empty and there is no one to great him there. Let’s face it, even the houseplants decided to give up on him. He drives as the rain outside increases, the city lights mirrored in the puddles, almost glowing like Christmas decorations. All that fake joyfulness without the real thing. He speeds up, trying to get back faster, the frustrations of the growing day hitting him with double force. Work has been hell lately, his responsibilities piling up just like the stack of documents on his desk. He changes the gears when the lights turn to green.

He rushes, and then he sees her.

One big mess, in a long dirty green jacket, hood on, a hand holding it against the lashing wind. She tries to shield herself, but it is clear that she is drenched in water and mud. He passes her without even a second thought, as the car splashes water all over her like a big tidal wave. Her small frame shrinks as the cold water attacks her body. He stares at the scene as she becomes smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

He changes the gear and stops abruptly, the brakes making a racket. He almost hits a nearby pole as he tries to make it in one piece. A deep breath, in and out. A rushing heartbeat against the wall of rain. He backs the car and stops next to her. He doesn’t even say anything, just opens the door and waits until she gets in. She doesn’t even hesitate. Her small figure sliding right in. He notices the mud on her shoes but doesn’t say anything. All he has in his head, are his mother’s words.

One good deed at a day, John. One good deed at a time.

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