The Flying Boy

A younger boy sat two seats in front of me on the bus. He was playing with some other boys, laughing and pushing them out of the seat, but every few minutes he would turn towards the window and look out of it with a serious expression on his face.

Perhaps he's thinking about jumping out of the window, I thought. He seemed to be considering it intensely. In between his playing with the other kids, his attention was completely focused on that window.

He saw me watching him and smiled at me. I smiled back.

I hope he knows how to fly, I thought. Then he won't get hurt or anything.

And he can keep on flying until he gets far, far away, to whatever he wants to get to.

I inwardly wished him luck and looked out of my own window at the sunrise.