The Last Year of Life

Day 2. Bus. 8:45AM
Public transportation to and public transportation home. This morning, like many others, the bus is filled to capacity. I become self-conscious of the body odor emitting from my armpits, as my arms are raised and wrapped around the metal bar to maintain stability.
Unpleasant woman lacquered in make-up to an overweight man: Are you blind?
Man: What? No.
Unpleasant woman: Then why don't you let that lady take your seat?
The man chuckles and turns his head away from her.
Unpleasant woman: I know you have it in you. Come on, give her your seat.
Man: Mam, I'm not blind, but I am disabled.
The man lifts his pant leg up to reveal a prosthetic limb underneath.
The unpleasant woman turns away from him.

No songs were sung. No candles were extinguished.