She stands by the bus stop everyday.
We pass her by everytime we go to the train station.
She always sits on her “luggage”, pieces of boxes and suitcases under a worn-out, woolish blanket.
Her hair is shorter. It looked like she cut her hair days before.
We always wondered about her.
What does she do?
Where does she go?
Where does she live?
Does she have family?
Is she visiting someone?
Is she just bored, that she likes riding buses?
Is she homeless?
Who is she?
Numerous questions flash through our minds in the minute we pass her by.
I Have Cramps 